Chapter 1
****Northeastern University; 5 years ago
The first day of school was his favorite day of the year. Something about the smell of freshly printed books, blank notebooks that begged to be inked and the feel of a new fountain pen in his hands stirred the inner nerd in him. He waited with abated breath each summer for the leaves to paint themselves in hues of red and orange, signaling the beginning of a new school year.
As he walked down the stone pathway that was the entrance of his school, he couldn't help, but feel a pang of melancholy. This was his last year here. Granted, being an almost university graduate had its perks from the week-long senior trip to Shimla to the utmost adoration and fear from underclassmen but this year would be the last time when his father would overlook his flaws and his mother would put up with his childish banter. Outside of the comforts of his university were a mountain of expectations and responsibilities that had been lingering since his birth, waiting till he finally received his diploma.
Arnav sighed. He had taken time to come to the grounds two hours earlier than the start of the day to admire it privately one last time. Has it really been three years? He wondered, taking in the brick, castle-like building that had become his home. It seemed like yesterday when he was first embraced by its walls and its evergreen fields.
In the midst of his thoughts, he missed the petite girl running his way. He hadn't seen her long plait in the verge of being undone or the pair of glasses that engulfed her hazel eyes or the way she was muttering to herself, clutching a ripped bag with one pale hand.
She collided with him headfirst and he had instinctively placed a hand around her waist to steady himself. Her glasses had fallen off and landed on the ground with a resounding crack while the satchel she had been carrying flew out of her hands, emptying its contents mid-air.
Paper surrounded them and it was only when one sheet landed in between their chests that he let go of her. She staggered back, her long tresses escaping the hair tie until they cascaded down her back. He stared at her and how her hair danced in the wind.
"Can't you see where you're walking?" She snapped, regaining her composure and bending to pick up her broken glasses. "Do you walk with your head in the clouds?"
His eyes narrowed. She may have been pretty, but no one talked to him like that. "The same could be said for you," he sneered. "Don't you know who I am?"
"I could care less," she began picking up the paper. "Look what you've done. You broke my glasses, my documents are everywhere and my bagged ripped completely, she finished with a horrified shriek. "Even stitching won't help this."
"Don't you da--"
"And it's only my first day here!" She cut him off, her voice quivering
.
"Hold on," he paused. "You're a freshman? You have the audacity to speak to your superior like this?"
"Suniye," she held up a hand. "I'm a second-year transfer...Choriye, why am I telling you this? You already caused enough damage. It's a sign from Devi Maiya. Stay away from me!"
"Gladly."
This was the type of people they were letting into his school these days? He thought with an annoyed huff as she moved past him with a harsh shove. He had almost walked away until a lone piece of paper caught his eye. He picked it up, quickly skimming it with a dark look.
"Khushi Kumari Gupta," he pronounced, tasting the unsavory flavor of her lengthy, yet simple name with his tongue. He turned around, watching her sprint towards another figure in the distance. "Khushi..." How ironic.
******
Present DayAs soon as he drove away from the chaos, she opened her mouth and began to chatter in a characteristic manner.
"Pull over and drop me off," she said without hesitation, pointing to an obscure tree.
Arnav sighed. She hadn't changed much since university, not that he expected her to. The last time he had seen her was the day of his graduation when she had shown up and disappeared in what felt like seconds. Of course, the thick-rimmed glasses that once adorned her face were now missing and her famous braid was replaced with open hair. But her voice, her smell and even the way she was currently jabbering showed that Khushi Gupta was still the same.
"Raizada, are you deaf? Drop me off right now!"
He didn't comply, instead focusing his attention on the rain. As he watched the rain make its journey to his front shield and the windshield mechanically wiping it away, he couldn't help but wonder why she lied. Why had she done that? They weren't friends. Heck, they weren't even on regular speaking terms yet, she had still done it.
"Are you serious?" She continued from the back. "I don't think you know what you're--"
"Why did you lie?" He turned the indicator and switched to the right lane.
Her cheeks colored slightly. "You're still the same," she evaded. "No thank you. No gratitude for saving you-- "
"Saving me?"
"Haan saving you," she insisted. "That auto driver would've dragged you to the nearest police station or would've ganged up on you with his auto friends. You should be thanking me."
"Rest assured Khushi Gupta, he gritted his speed, his foot pressed firmly against the accelerator. "I would've bought him a new auto---"
"You can't just throw money around!" She said matter of factly, not realizing that her voice had gotten progressively louder. "This isn't univer...What if he got hurt?"
"Then I would've paid for the hospital bill," he slammed the wheel with one hand.
"You're so typical Raizada!" she threatened, tying her dupatta and rolling up the sleeves of her salwar.
"You didn't answer my question."
"Drop me off!"
"Answer my question first."
She covered her ears. "Drop me off!"
"Or what Khushi Gupta, what are you going to do?" He challenged.
She stayed silent for a minute before rolling down the windows and letting out a piercing scream.
"Help me! This rakshas has kidnapped me," she lifted a hand to her forehead. "Bachao! Save me!"
"What the--" His car came to a skidding halt in front of a dhaba.
"Save me!" She screamed as loudly as she could. The mechanic and few stray men lurking in the dhaba abandoned their food and darted towards his car.
"Kya hua?"
"What happened sister?"
She quickly unlocked her seatbelt and got out. "This man," she fluttered her lashes, taking deep breaths to feign sobs. "He...he tried to---"
"He tried to what?" One man tried to reach out through the windows to grab his collar. "Eh kamina! Open your mouth!"
He narrowed his eyes. If she wanted to play, he would play. "Sir, please don't get involved in our personal affair. My wife," he shot her a dark look. "Has gotten into a fight with me and refuses to go home. I was just taking her to her rightful place."
The man paused. "Is that so sister?"
"I--I--"
"Go on honey," his voice dripped with sarcasm. "Finish the story you started. You see, my wife refuses to be in the same home as my mother."
There was a collective intake of breath. "Behanji, you can't say that. She's your mother too now, one advised."
"Exactly," Arnav nodded. "That's what I'm telling her, but she refuses to listen. She ran away because I defended my mother."
"Girls these days," someone shouted from the back. "I tell you, no common sense."
"You have to go back!"
"Sister, that's absurd."
"I can't live without my mother or," he shot her a smirk. "My wife. My children are crying for their mother."
Her eyes widened. Wife? Mother? Within minutes, he had turned her from his wife to the mother of his kids. That good for nothing, loathsome pile of bricks. She felt someone push her towards the car and open the door to ease her into the passenger seat.
"Keep your marital problems to yourself sister and think about your children!" the man said. "We thought you actually needed help...Pathetic. Chalo everyone." With that, the ten men that had surrounded the car grumbled back to their food, leaving only Khushi and Arnav in the car.
"Are you done with your drama?" He leaned forward and moved the door so that it opened further. "Get in the car and answer my question."
She narrowed her eyes. "I can walk home, thank you very much. And I don't have to answer anything to you."
His face turned stony. "Fine."
She slammed the door shut and began to walk before pausing. "Raizada, take care of that cut."
*****
Later that Day
"Jiji, guess what?" She walked into her room with a frustrated sigh.
Payal, whose nose had been buried in yet another book, looked up. "Where were you? Why are you wet?"
"I talked to a pile of bricks today," she ignored her sister and plopped down on the bed so that all of its contents went up in the air for a few seconds.
"Haw," Payal narrowed her eyes as she watched her sister dispose her wet dupatta in some obscure corner of the room. "Stop being cryptic and tell me what happened."
"Do you remember Raizada from university?"
"There were three Raizadas in our school--"
Khushi let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm talking about that rakshas, good for nothing, useless---"
"Oh Arnav?"
"Yes him! Why did you say his name like that?"
"Like what?"
"Oh Arnav," she mimicked her sister's voice. "You say it as if you...Chodo, didn't you have a crush on the younger one? What was his name? Arre! The tall big-bird looking one. You know, the one from Sesame Street?" His nose is this big. She made a cone shape with her hands.
Payal threw a towel at her. "Don't say such things."
"Oh ho defensive," she giggled. "Listen, you know the bus stop near Suraj Apartments?"
Her sister nodded.
"He crashed his car there!
Payal's eyes widened. "Kya? Is he okay?"
She waved her hands in the air. "He has a minor cut in his forehead. But he destroyed that poor auto driver's vehicle."
"Did he see you?"
"Did he see me?" Khushi asked.. "I saved him! The auto driver was about to drag him out of the car when I went to the driver and told him that I was his lawyer and his wife was murdered--"
"Kya?"
"And his son was kidnapped. Oh spare me those looks jiji. That's the premise of every Bollywood movie."
"Khushi, you know it's--"
"Bad to lie. I asked for forgiveness," she looked up at the ceiling. "It was a favor for something he had done for me back in university."
Payal raised her brows. "Uff ho! Devi Maiya knows that it's for a good cause...well it was."
"Why did you lie?" Payal persisted.
Khushi bit her lip. Why had she lied? It was Raizada and she should've left him there. Yet, when he looked at her with those piercing molten eyes and shock, when he hit the auto and when she saw the blood trickle from his forehead, her feet decided to move on their own. The memories from university flooded through her, compelling her to help him.
"I shouldn't have," she avoided Payal's gaze. "Stupid ungrateful people."
"What happened after?"
"He didn't even thank me! I had to scream for him to let me get off his car--"
"Why did you get in his car?"
She shook her head. For someone as smart as her sister, she could be dense sometimes. "Because I was his lawyer and we were going to the nearest station. Keep up Jiji."
Khushi watched her sister's face go through a myriad of emotion as she finished the story.
"You accused him of being a kidnapper?"
"Jiji," she whined. "You're supposed to be on my side. He made me his wife and called me the mother of his children!"
"You brought that upon yourself!" He offered you a ride and instead, her sister lightly slapped her head. "You decided to walk home in the rain. You really are stupid."
Khushi got up. "Not after his lack of gratitude! And I wasn't going to be an abla nari and take his help when I can manage on my own."
"The rain is not the time for a feminist societal stance."
"Justice doesn't take a break in the rain...Chodo, you'll never be on my side. Traitors I say," she yelled dramatically as she grabbed her clothes from the drawer. "This family is full of traitors."
"Oh stop being so melodramatic. When you're done, come to the kitchen. I made pakoras." Payal paused. "And don't let Amma know what happened. She's in a bad mood--"
"What happened?"
"The new tenants...you know the sexy saree wala aunty--"
"Oh Ms. Savitry," Khushi said her name breathlessly. "The one with the backless blouse and net saree? She wears it like this". She picked up a random dupatta and wrapped it tightly between her chest.
Payal giggled. "Yeah, she was flirting with Abba today.
Khushi wrinkled her nose. "Chi."
"And Amma was there! Sexy saree has some guts. I think Amma was going to hit her with a belan if Abba didn't talk some sense into her. So don't do anything stupid and don't mention your Raizada unless you want an earful."
"He's not my Raizada!
"Hmm, Payal had almost gotten out of the room when she paused. "Woh Khushi--"
She looked up.
"Are...are you going to," Payal struggled to keep her face straight. "Are you going to wear your saree like that for your Arnavji?"
Khushi's eyes widened before she let out a horrified shriek. "Ew jiji, she picked up the discarded dupatta and flung it towards her sister."
"Where's the dettol? Or bleach? I have to clean my ears and eyes to get rid of that image. Eugh!"
"Of course you have to wear it alone when you're not in front of your 2.5 kids."
"Jiji!"
******************************************She sat hunched over at her desk, a pen stuck in her bun and a highlighter on the other hand. Khushi loved the night; She loved its comforting silence, a break from her otherwise hectic life. It was in the night when she worked her best when she could sit in her swivel chair and let the ideas for her new articles ink themselves in the paper.
"Khushi," Payal mumbled from the back. "Come to bed nah. It's twelve in the morning."
She waved her hand in dismissal. "Go back to sleep Jiji," she bit her lips as words flowed from her pen.
"Isn't your article due in a week?"
"Hmm," she agreed absentmindedly. "Yeah, it is."
Except it wasn't due in two weeks. It wasn't due at all for there was no article. Khushu had fabricated her story and told her family about her major project months back when she first found out about NYU's creative writing fellowship. Her Amma would've thrown a fit if she found would that she applied, her father would've complained about his aching body and feign yet another heart attack while her sister would wallow in her sorrow before settling with the silent treatment.
Nonetheless, Khushi couldn't stop herself from applying. She had accepted her rejection and could already imagine the email that would be sent to her--
Dear Khushi Kumari Gupta,
We regret to inform you that...
There was an outstanding number of applicants...
Thank you for considering us...
Best regards,
The Admissions Committee
But she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she does get accepted. Would she finally complete all those abandoned novels that are collecting dust in the back of her desk? Would she become the next Jhumpa Lahiri, writing about the quintessential Indian-American immigrant experience? Would she finally make a living doing what she loved?
Khushi sighed. Plots and settings and characters came easily to her; she could turn the tiniest of moments into ten-page length sonnets. It was finishing them with a precision that required work and effort that she seemed to lack these days. When she graduated university, she had anticipated that she would go into creative writing.
But thinking of stories didn't pay the bills nor did it help with the immense student debt she had accumulated. And thus, she found herself fighting tooth and nail for her current job at the entertainment section of Times of India, thinking that journalism was the path to go. When she stepped into her cubicle, Khushi couldn't help but feel an overwhelming concoction of disappointment and...well, failure. It had taken her a week to realize that she was a glorified paparazzi.
"Khushi," her sister broke her out of her trance. "Seriously, it's getting late. You're going to get dark circles, and you're going to look like you have a permanent smokey eye like those celebrities you write about."
"Uff Jiji. I said I'm coming."
"Fine," Payal grumbled. "No one listens to me in this household anyway. First Amma and then you. Just...set your alarm before you come to sleep."
"Can you pass me my phone? I'll set it right now."
"I don't have your phone."
"Yeah, you do. You were playing angry birds with it right before I left..." she paused. "Shit shit shit! Oh no! Oh my fuc--"
Payal sat up. "What happened?"
"I think...I think I left my phone in that rakshas Raizada's car! "
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author's Note: Love it? Hate it? Please let me know in the comment section ❤️ Thank you to everyone who commented. Your kind words made my day and I hope you continue to enjoy my story. Please do leave any suggestions and formatting issues. I may move this to a blog because I dislike IF's interface, but I'm not sure. Let me know what you guys thank.
Edited by AnaayaArshi - 5 years ago
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