Chapter 22: Iss Pyaar Ko Kya Naam Doon?
Arnav
Iss Mod Se Jaate Hai
Kuch Sust Kadam Raste
Kuch Tez Kadam Raahein
He turned on the radio as soon as he got into the car. This had become his new thing, a habit that he acquired from Khushi. Inspite of himself he felt a smile rising up his face. Thank God the usual rabble rousers in his life viz. Anjali Di and NK were not around just now, they would not have let him live this down. It was retro hour on radio, so the songs just sounded more poetic, and meaningful.
In Reshami Raahon Men, Ik Raah To Vo Hogi
Tum Tak Jo Pahunchati Ha,i Is Mod Se Jaati Hai
However, he was not on his way to meet Khushi, in fact he was on his way to meet his cousin Aakash, who had sent him a cryptic text last evening saying that they needed to meet because he had uncovered something. Khushi and he were to meet for lunch, and he had to call her to tell that it was off.
“I am sorry, Khushi. Aakash sounded very dramatic, you know how calm he otherwise is. So, I have to meet him. I hope he is okay,” Arnav said, he could sense that Khushi had gone a little aloof from her chirpy greeting. Between his multiple jobs, Khushi’s multiple jobs, separate and overlapping drama in their lives, it was sometimes tough for them to catch a break. But they had made progress. He had to admit. First the date happened. Actually it was less of a date, and more of a quiet lunch. Neither of them brought up his mother, or her brother, or the New-Ons bunch. He told her a few stories about her dilettante jeeju Arjoon and she told him about Chandni Chowk boys. Yes, they actually talked about her love life, or whatever you could call that. As she regaled him, he was baffled about these boys whom she used to tie Rakhis too got proposals sent to her. Khushi insisted that it was par for the course for brothers to turn into suitors, especially in case of late bloomers like herself.
“Ah, so you bloomed?” he had asked her teasingly.
She had shrugged and said, “By Chandni Chowk standards I was okay, I suppose. Not by South Delhi standards, of course.”
As she went back to fiddling with the Chinese food, struggling with the chopsticks, he immediately wanted to kick himself. Khushi was very attractive, in a way that he certainly appreciated now more than before. He was always drawn by her in some ways even in the past, but he had begun to consider her as a good-looking woman only recently. Like today she looked lovely. She had put in effort for the date. Dressed in a simple Salwar Kameez, that was kalamkari printed, tiny drops of earrings in silver and a surprisingly full-bodied pink lipstick. She looked striking in fact. He had wanted to tell her as soon as she walked in, but it seemed so trite and he didn’t want to alarm her at the beginning. Was Khushi who seemed so nonchalant insecure about her looks, he wondered. He should have told her something at least then. But he didn’t, and instead in a combination of exasperation and gentleness held her hand, intertwined his fingers in her, guiding her chopstick. Somehow the moment was so intimate then, any conversation had ended.
When he met her this weekend for the movie, he would tell her that she was very beautiful. Maybe she didn’t need his validation, but he needed to tell her that. But now, there was his cousin, and he wondered what possibly he could have to say.
Meanwhile the song had ended, and a RJ began chatting about the hot May in Delhi, he turned off the radio.
Aakash
It was so very hot this time of the year in Delhi. Aakash checked the AC setting, which said 16 degrees Celsius. It couldn’t get any cooler than that. Vijay Shastri the Admin Head of AR walked into his cabin and in his usual flustered style announced that, “Madam was in office.”
Madam was his aunt, Poonam Maami, who surprisingly spent most of her time in discussion with Roy and Shyam. Roy, was understandable, he was the keeper of Raizada secrets, but Shyam, Khushi’s brother Shyam, was baffling to him. It was only when he spoke with Khushi he realised that so much had transpired between her and Poonam Maami. He was a little surprised that she had not reached out to him. When he met his cousin Arnav earlier in the day, he realised why – for Arnav and Khushi were now spending time with each other. He had met Arnav to apprise him on another discovery he had made, about the big thorn in their lives – Mihir Gupta. Through the Personal Investigator it was clear now that Mihir was in touch with his uncle Anand Raizada. This was startling for him to know and he knew that he could share this only with Arnav, and nobody else. Arnav had been surprisingly stoic about the whole thing and had a hunch that Mihir was blackmailing his father.
“But what can he have on Maama?”
Arnav did not know that though. After which the cousins spoke about everything in general, and nothing in particular. He noticed with amusement that his cousin mentioned Khushi about fifty times in the five minutes of their conversation. He wanted to point that out but refrained from doing so. They had definitely become closer now, but not that close either.
“So, are you, I mean, how are things with Payal?” his cousin asked as they waited for the valet to bring their cars. Unsure if this was an opening for a serious conversation or a time filler for while they waited, he had just shrugged.
“You should, I mean not should, I mean, why don’t you speak with Payal,” his cousin seemed to hesitate as he got into the car.
Now sitting at AR, wading through a hundred slide PowerPoint on a new plant that he, Aakash Mallik of all people was setting up, he picked up his phone. He scrolled to P for Payal and changed his mind and scrolled up to Khushi instead.
After a conversation about their work, she asked, “Are you okay, Aakash?”
“Why wouldn’t I be okay,” he asked her, surprised that she threw that at him out of the blue.
“Oh okay, Arnav was saying that you seemed a little down,” she finally said. Ah, the hotline between GK and CC was going strong. He was happy for his friend, but also a little worried – can all that history just be wished away?
“So, now Arnav tells you about what is happening with me, hanh? Times have surely changed,” he said, teasing Khushi was something he felt comfortable doing.
“It is nothing like that. Finally hum mein dosti ho gayi hai,” she said.
He didn’t prod more, because he knew Khushi, and she would not just clam up to him, she would also ultimately feel the need to go cold on her cousin. He wasn’t going to be the villain in this blossoming story.
“Achi baat hai. Dost toh har kissi ko chahiye,” he had told her and hung up.
He hoped that his friend and cousin were able to get past that delicate little place of a little more than friends. God knows he struggled with that, as he scrolled down the name just below Khushi, his friend Lavanya. He clicked on her new display picture, with her Major. He sighed.
“Aakash Sir, Shyam has left,” Vijay Shastri announced. Somehow, he was relived. He did not like this Shyam and Poonam nexus at all. Not one bit.
Khushi
Faisal Bhaii was getting a little angry by now, as he was muttering under his breath something about “kal ka ldka”. The boy from yesterday who was at the receiving end of Fasal Bhaii’s wrath was her brother Shyam. The normally composed Faisal Bhaii was very upset because her brother had bought new karhais for Tewari & Sons, which were made of iron instead of aluminium. Shyam reasoned that they retain heat better and were therefore belter to control temperature. Faisal Bhaii after making a batch of motichoor ladoos with it that didn’t turn out to be of his usual “standard” parked the blame of it squarely on the karhais.
Khushi just smiled at Faisal Bhaii, not wanting to get into anything that involved taking side of her brother versus this dear old man she had developed a lot of fondness for.
Her brother was confusing her a bit now. In a way she was glad that he seemed to be out of trouble, but suddenly he was at AR too often. Every other day he would set off saying, Vijayji ne bulaya hai. Even Arnav and Aakash will tell her every time they spoke to her that Shyam was at AR. More Arnav than Aakash, she thought and smiled.
She turned on the radio, hoping the music would calm down Faisal Bhaii, it always worked. It was retro hour.
Aajkal Paon Zameen Par Nahin Padte Mere
An apt song for the lightness she was feeling for the first time in a really long while. Ever since the meeting with Poonam Raizada, her equation with Arnav had changed. She was not sure why or how it had changed. But the fact that both Poonam and Arnav did not once more jump on her as the harbinger of all problems in their lives was a relief. While Arnav had made attempts to reach out to her over the last few months, but she also knew that until she and Poonam made peace, it would not be possible for Arnav and her to move on. Move on where though?
Nind si rahati hai, halkaasa nasha rahata hai
Raat din ankhon men ek chehara basa rahata hai
Cheesy as it sounded, suddenly Arnav was part of her life on an everyday basis. They exchanged messages through the day, spoke each evening. Their conversations were no longer laced with any of the previous heaviness or required either of them to tread carefully like they were walking on eggshells. It was sometimes funny, even silly. Like two days ago after she was wrapping the day at Tewari he had called her.
“I have had such an awful day,” he had announced.
She knew he was overworked, handling two businesses. He was worried about his parents. He seemed a little concerned about Anjali DI and his jeeju. Instead of offering false platitudes saying all will be well, she decided to volunteer some information, as a distraction.
“Shall I tell you something strange,” She had asked.
She could immediately sense that she had piqued his interest. She told him about her visit to Mohan Singh Market earlier in the day so that she could get tailored jeans and trousers – the dress code fir Alchemy professors now. Of course, she would be wearing her training pants through most of the time, but for college events this was mandated. Khushi had never owned a pair of jeans in her life and had been very stressed about having to wear one now. In fact, several years ago during her New Ons Days Lavanya had once invited her home to her house for a movie watching birthday party. She had declined after Maa told her that buying a pair of jeans was a no go. How could she wear a salwar kameez and go to Lavanya’s house? Didn’t she have to contend with so many names already? Much to Lavanya’s chagrin she had declined to come for the party. After that Lavanya just stopped inviting her for anything at all.
But now, as a grown woman, here she was buying her first pair of jeans, taking Maa along with her for shopping. She decided to opt for a tailored one because it was cheaper and was made to measure. She was pretty worried that she was too fat or too thin for branded jeans. And didn’t want a salesperson to put her on the spot. She was used to tailoring blouses and kurtas, so it seemed only right. At Mohan Singh Market, egged on by her mother she even ordered for a pair of read jeans and one with ripped and frayed ends, that didn’t have Maa’s approval. The best part was the salesman saying, “Do mein Levi’s laga doonga, do mein pepe, aur do mein Wrangler.” Six branded jeans for the fraction of the price.
Arnav had seemed amused by her silly detour of a story.
“You should have just bought from a store, you know, it would have been quicker. Now you have to go back again there to pick up. You are what, probably a waist of twenty-three, twenty-four, you will get plenty of different styles even. Fashion is made for women like you,” he had said.
She had bristled at how accurate his assessment of her waist size was.
“So you can tell the waist size of all women? And you were judging boys from Chandni Chowk?”
“No, Khushi, not all women, trust me. Very few. Very very few,” he said teasingly.
She had blushed then, grateful that she was alone.
Faisal Bhaii interrupted her thoughts by placing a plateful of jalebis in front of her and a brown package. She picked it up, the handwriting on it was awful, and she immediately recognised it as that of Arnav’s. Inside it was a pair of jeans, and a note that said, Vero Moda, because that was missing.
Later at night when she tried it on, the fit was perfect.
Arjoon
“Arjoon Bose, you may go in now,” the lady at the reception announced. While he was an atheist, but he sent out a little prayer to the universe, he needed it today. This was the third interview in three days now, and after the less than stellar earlier interviews, he was banking on this one.
About three weeks back he lost his job at the current NGO he was working with, as one of the key people funding the organisation was an INP supporter and his last editorial on the party had ruffled more than a few feathers. And one day he was unceremoniously booted out.
At home, Thumpa had been running a bout of fewer and had not been keeping well. This had contributed to Jhalli’s stress and he had not mentioned the job firing to her. And one day, became three weeks and he had basically kept his wife in the dark. The problem with lying is that at some point it grows so big and so complex that there is no way out. One gets deeper and deeper into it.
He would step out of his house each day, like he was going out to work, and sit at coffee shops, checking out job listings. He knew how he was perceived, the middle-class boy who had married the heiress. He had no intention to turn into a trophy husband mooching off his wife. He loved his wife, how fierce and generous she was. He knew that if she knew that he was without a job, she would rejoin work. She would do everything possible to keep them afloat. But he didn’t want to do that.
As he walked into the interview room, this was for an interesting role in a political think-tank, he was shocked to realise that one of the members of the interview panel was Payal Singh, his almost to have been sister-in-law.
She smiled at him, as he walked in.
Arnav
It was a strange day at home, mom, dad, Anjali Di and he were all eating lunch together. This was a rare event for them, even when they all lived in the same house. The normalcy of the moment was disconcerting in some ways. Turns out Jun Jeeju had taken a few days off work and was baby-sitting his niece, so Anjali Di was doing as per her “regular, human woman type activities”. Evidently lunch with the parental unit and brother qualified as regular human woman activity. He had to admit, it was fun, being so normal; the banter between Di and dad, mother’s quiet observation and his trying hard to not roll his eyes. It felt good. Though he missed not seeing his adorable niece, this was nice.
He had to reschedule his lunch with Khushboo again for this.
“Sorry, but we seldom get to hang out as family, I hope you understand.”
“Of course,” she had said, adding that she was now planning to spend her time putting together an exercise routine for her new wards for once she joined Alchemy. Khushi seemed rather excited about this. He realised that getting back to sports was so important to her, something that he and his family had robbed off her. Though they had reached the point of relative normalcy in their equation, but you can’t just wish away the past. It exists and surfaces its head when you probably least want it to.
The most amusing part was seeing how excited HP seemed with this family bonding session. He was preening and literally cooked up a storm. He had also packed a full box for “Damadji” aka Jun Jeeju. Di had grinned at him and he had rolled his eyes.
“Thank you, HP. Arnav Bhaiya ki biwi jab aayegi, uski toh aish hai,” Anjali Di said.
He had groaned and shook his head. Only his Di had this special talent to introduce the subject of his “shaadi” into any conversation. I mean, leaders might discuss the Gaza conflict, and Di could talk about getting her brother married into the mix. It was infuriating. Di was lucky, that he loved his sister so. It was strange that most people had the pressure of settling down coming from his parents, but in his case, his parents dd not interfere at all.
“Let him marry when he is ready,” his mother said sombrely.
“Or he meets the right person,” his dad added.
But Di would have none of it. Who cares about what he thought? Di wanted to see her brother hitched. End of story.
“You guys have given him too much freedom,” Di had said, which honestly sounded so funny to him.
The parents had shrugged. They seemed so much in unison these days, like suddenly something had happened, and their views seemed to converge on literally everything and anything.
“Mom, Dad, what if Arnav decided to marry someone you didn’t like, you didn’t approve,” Anjail Di persisted.
“You mean like, Payal,” his mom asked wryly. This invited loud cackle from Anjali Di and she high-fived her mom. This was all so disorienting. He also knew where his sister was going with it. That much was blindingly obvious.
Ye sochake baithi hun ik raah to wo hogi
Tum tak jo pohonchati hai is mod se jaate hai
“Not Payal, mom, someone else, what would you do?” Di persisted.
He froze for a bit. Even dad seemed curious. The pair of three eyes on Poonam Raizada.
“If she makes him happy enough and he has enough courage, then what can we say,” his mother finally spoke.
Across the table his sister made the thumbs up sign.
Anand
“HP, Green Tea nahin, aaj achi adrak walli chai pila do,” Anand Raizada told his housekeeper.
Though the month of May is hot, and something cooler would have been nice, but he felt in the mood for a milk and spicy tea. He was in his study after their unscheduled family lunch. It was good to be together with the family after long, just them – no Arjoon and Payal. They had even when the children were younger never had such normal times. They suffered from a malady that many of his friends did, that of busyness. In their quest for wealth and success, to ultimately provide for their families, the very same families were ignored. Now in the sunset years of his career, it all seemed like a wasted opportunity. If given the chance of a do-over. He would certainly do things differently. He would have been a different husband, a different father, and a different human. But unfortunately, life neither came a user manual or the opportunity to do-over. Yet, the one thing he was ultimately grateful for was that inspite of all the missteps mostly of his, and some of Poonam, the children had turned out well.
Arjoon Bose was a great influence on his daughter. He gave her the much needed tehraav, that made her such a den-mother, always looking out for the ones she loved. He was not sure where she got that quality from, probably from Poonam. Who did the same, albeit in less flamboyant ways than Anjali, or definitely in less conventional ways than his daughter?
If he we were to really think about it, Poonam was the glue that kept the family together, from the time when they gave up their regular working lives to set-up the business, it was she who gave the start and put her faith behind him. Through the two children, Aakash being take under the fold, even in his brief philandering days – Poonam never let the children ever feel that their father was anything less than the best, anything less than dependable.
Anand did not have a roving eye, as the media would speculate in his young days. Yes, he was. Handsome man, and in the eighties the toast of the town among the Delhi crowd. He was charming, he was funny, attentive and a polyglot. Plus, he possessed one of the most potent qualities of attractiveness, back then at least, he was making a lot of money. It was always harmless flirtations and bantering. During one party, thrown by Tanuja Sabharwal, the venerable older sister of Prashanth Sabharwal, things got a little out of hand.
Tanuja. was a loud Punjabi woman, stunning and with a bit of a reputation. They had hit off very well at that time and continued to be in touch. There were squash matches at the Gymkhana, walks in Lodhi, and chaat runs in Chandni Chowk. Poonam had been pregnant with Anjali at that time and had been very distant. Anand was either naïve, or a typical man and did not make much of all this. He enjoyed the attention that he was getting, and thought his good-natured flirting was just that. But there is no such thing as just flirting. It was a dangerous line. An inebriated Prashanth came to meet him once demanding that he marry Tanuja or announced rather dramatically that he stay away from her. The full repercussions of what he had done became apparent to him then. Poonam had witnessed all of this only said to him quietly after that, “I think I am in labour, let’s go to the hospital”
Anand had apologised to Poonam several times after this. But she would have nothing of it. She refused to listen to him. She did not grudge him, she claimed. But he knew that she never quite forgave him. After this he put himself deep into the business, getting more success, and more attention from women. But the truth was that barring that one instance with Tanuja, everything else was media manufactured. But he did not correct the reporters, because it kept him in the news, and ultimately was beneficial to the business. It wasn’t until the Khushi incident he realised how damaging this would ultimately prove to be. He was grateful that now Khushi and Poonam had set things right.
He had a feeling that Arnav was falling in love with Khushi all over again. Yes, he believed that his son reacted the way he did because not only did he think she had done his mother wrong, but she had also done him wrong. While Poonam probably got all the blame for what happened to Khushi, he also realised that he got away very easily. He was plagued by this guilt so much, but he could not speak with anyone about this, until on one of his work trips to Bombay he spoke about this with his sister-in-law Anuradha Raizada, she was a remarkably stoic woman, non-judgemental and gave him a safe space to vent. He had no doubt that Poonam would accept Khushi if it came to it, but he was unsure if Arnav himself would get past his reservations, his carefully calibrated decision-making. While Anjali and Arjoon were also ill-matched, but the distance between the worlds was lesser, plus there was no history between them. With Khushi and Arnav, the odds were heavily stacked against them. He really hoped that his son could find the courage, nobody was going to make this easy for him; not Khushi, and not Poonam. He sighed and put the empty cup of tea down, it had been such a difficult few years. And just as things had got better, now again they had hit into rough weather, with the erstwhile CFO of AR Mihir Gupta. Mihir said that he would leak some photographs of him and Tanuja that could be pretty damaging. While he had a feeling that Mihir was bluffing, because he really did not have any kind of intimacy with Tanuja, but he could not take a chance – at this stage when he and Poonam had found relative peace. And all the rivalry chatter in the media about AR and the Sabharwals would only make things worse.
When Poonam was pregnant with Arnav she had a troubled pregnancy, and to cheer her up Anand used to sing this one song to her: Dil Dhoondta Hai Phir Wohi Fursat ke Raat Din. Perhaps now that he had got his latest diagnosis, saying the cancer was now Stage III, and the prognosis was not good, may he would finally get his fursat ke raat din.
Khushi
“Preeto itna kaam mat kar yaar,” she told her friend. They were meeting after a while. Preeto had decided to go back to work, and had spread herself too thin between housework, her job, taking acre of Leher and helping Ginny with his business. She looked exhausted and spent, and Khushi was worried about her friend. She had gone to Leher’s new house in Gurgaon, as this was closer to her workplace, and had better day-care options. Though like any thorough Delhi bred, Khushi found the prospect of travelling to Gurgaon quite tedious and terrifying, but here she was anyway.
Preeto had done up the house nicely, very Indian in terms of styling, but very modern in terms of technology. Preeto insisted that this was a smart home, which meant that one could control the fans, lights, TV, all from the mobile phone. It sounded more like a lazy home, than anything particularly smart to her, but she refrained from saying anything.
“And who is giving lecture on spreading oneself too thin, tu apne ko dekh – dukaan chalati hai, Alchemy mein job karti hain, Ankita ko train kar rahin hain, aur AAA ke saath time spend kar rahi hai,” Preeto rambled on.
“AAA?”
“Arrey wohi, jeejaji special – Arnav, Aakash and Aman,” Preeto went gleefully.
Khushi picked up one of the million cushions on Preeto’s sofa and aimed it at her head, though her friend managed to duck.
“Kuch bhi, phir se bakwaas mat shuru kar,” she warned her friend.
“Theekh hai, sorry, I forgot, now it seems only Arnav race mein bach gaya hai,” she said.
“Agar main kabhi KBC mein jaoon toh Arnav mera Phone a Friend ban sakta hai,” Khushi told her friend. After their” date” they never met. Arnav rescheduled on every single occasion. Once it was Aakash, other time work for AR, work for Raizada Designs, once a family lunch, another time something about Aman, so on and so forth. While she always pretended nonchalance, but it also left her feeling deflated. What else did she expect anyway? Why did she expect more? But the truth was, she did.
And he gave her a lot of attention too. They would ping each other multiple times a day. He would call her every evening and they would talk – about his day, about her day, he would wryly comment about her prodigal brother and his mothership hatching some plans, he would talk a lot about Aman as the two seemed to be back in good terms again. He would also send her presents, other than the pair of jeans, he sent her once a pair of training shoes, another time he sent her a book called Thinking, Fast and Slow – a book that she was barely able to plough through. While she didn’t like gifts, especially expensive ones, but she found these gestures thoughtful, because they followed some conversation of theirs. Though she did tell him that she did not want expensive gifts, to which he had said that next time he will send the bill, so that she could pay him later.
“Uff Oh Khushi, stop behaving like 70s ki heroine. Agar ladka bhaav nahi de raeha hai toh tu usko bhaav de. I asked out Ginny, tabhi meri baat badi. You also must. Ask him out for a movie.. wait I know what to do. I have movie tickets for this IPL match Delhi versus Chennai, that is this weekend, go of that with him. Men can say no to women, not sports. Aur unse jo jeans diya, wohi pehenke jaana. Wait let me find a very nice scarf that I had bought, but never worn,” her friend started now rummaging through her closet.
It was amazing how Preeto always had stuff figured out. And how conveniently she would have free tickets and not worn clothes. Her friend was too generous sometimes.
But it got her thinking, maybe Preeto was right, she should ask Arnav out for the match. They wouldn’t get to talk much, but at least they would meet. She messaged him and he readily agreed and added – this time he would not cancel. She smiled at her phone and was interrupted by a toneless Preeto singing
Gum Hai Kissi Ke Pyaar Mein, Dil Subah Shaam
Par Tumhe Likh Nahin Paoon, Main Uska Naam
Khushi threw another pillow her friend’s way and this time it landed perfectly.
NK
“They have what?” NK repeated to his cousin.
Anjali Di put a bawling Thumpa on his lap and said, “Arrey Khushi asked him out for some IPL match and our majnu who has so little interest in IPL has gone.”
“Great, great,” NK said, wondering how come such a tiny Thumpa was so loud. He patted her tentatively hoping she would magically quieten down, but no such luck.
“Sorry, you must be disappointed NK, you might not have a chance with Cutie Kumari Gupta,” Anjali DI said, picking up Thumpa and walking to the other room.
“Never say never, with these two idiots, one can never tell, Di,” he said.
But what fun, he thought as he stretched himself on the couch. Maybe if this all works out, one day he would tell his cousin that it was no accident that on a rainy November day they had found themselves at No. 23 Chandni Chowk. He must speak to his mom tonight.
Arnav
“You are late,” she said as soon as he reached her.
They were just outside Feroze Shah Kotla stadium, an IPL match was underway between Delhi and Chennai. Arnav had got caught up at Raizada Designs, as he was putting together a fashion show on sustainable clothing. Plus, there was perennial drama at AR. Shyam, his mother, Roy and people from the Enforcement Directorate were in a closed room meeting for six hours. When he ran into Shyam as he was leaving AR, he asked how the meeting went, he got a thumbs up sign from him. Ditto from his mother. It was a bit disconcerting. Shyam seemed to be working with Roy now, and by extension with his mother. He did not ask Roy or his mother for more details, but he felt a little uncomfortable. What were they all upto? Though Dad and Mom had not reached some kind of tacit agreement on literally every issue, one this one they seemed to be working in silos, his mother not telling dad about working with Shyam.
“They will not let us go in now,” Khushi sounded a little sulky now. He did not blame her, between all the delays at work, and him getting waylaid, and then getting past the security and finding parking, it had been a disastrous start.
“Sorry Khushi, nahin karna chahiye tha. But let’s go somewhere else now, anywhere of your choice,” he said.
“Are you sure,” Khushi asked him.
He nodded, wondering where this would lead him. But he was open to whatever adventure the night would throw his way.
A grinning Khushi, took his hand and led him to the parking. He was taken aback by this sudden change in her, how comfortable she seemed to be with him. And he had to admit it, he liked it. Once in his car, she directed him to drive to India Gate.
“Are you sure?”
“Kyun? Koyi problem hai? It is too middle class?”
So, this was meant to be a dare? Or a test? He was not sure. But India Gate it was. When they got off and walked towards the area where there were couples, families, tourists, and young rowdy men, it felt like a weird place for them to be. In all these years of living in Delhi, not once had he visited India Gate. Nobody visited the tourist spots of their city, did they?
Khushi seemed horrified that his life had been so deprived all this time. No Red Fort. No Appu Ghar. No Toy Museum. No Lotus Temple. Nothing at all.
“Every week we will go to one place,” she announced. He felt such a warmth take over him at this point, for the first time in many years he felt seen and heard. He was quiet through the next some time, watching Khushi chatter excitedly and enjoy a very pink cotton candy and polka dot balloons, both of which he bought for her.
As he watched her toss the balloon, is when he noticed that she was dressed in a pair of jeans, the one that he had sent her. This was the first time he had seen her in a pair of jeans, and she looked good, there was no doubt. She had an elaborate hair updo as well.
“Khushi, you look really beautiful today. Always actually. By any standards, South Delhi, South Mumbai, South India,” he said.
She blushed, he could literally see her cheeks looking flushed and she seemed a little tongue-tied at this. A photographer came to her rescue and interrupted anything that she might have wanted to say and suggested she take a photo for fifty rupees only.
“Aap apne mister ke saath le sakti hai,” the photographer said.
“Mister?” she said, stammering.
“Ji bilkul, Mister is ready,” Arnav said grinning.
And that is how they took a photograph of the two of them standing, with not an inch separating them, acutely aware of each other, their breath on each other. He put his hands around her waist, and she is. Ten minutes later, they got one copy of the photo. Khushi insisted that he keep it, and he didn’t refuse.
They got back into the car after this. She immediately turned on the radio. They both quietly listened to the music and the RJ chatter. There was a certain comfort in the silence between them. He found a lot of thoughts going on in his head. He had said mister was ready, but was he, really? Would he ever be? Did it even matter? Couldn’t one just live in the moment and keep the labels aside? And of course, just then the radio played:
Hamane dekhi hai un aankhon ki mahakti khushhboo
Haath Se chhu ke isse rishton ka ilzaam na do
Sirf ehasaas hai ye ruh se mahasus karo
Pyaar ko pyaar hi rahane do koi naam na do
NEXT
Hey Guys, have updated.
A cyclone is expected to hit Mumbai tomorrow, so will be back in the morning with an update on that and my notes on the story.
It is Wednesday in Mumbai (just about), but must be Tuesday in some part of the world!!
Meeeeee. Stalking helps
Am floating in Arhi heaven..let me be there tonight..will comment tomorrow
Originally posted by: tanurocks
Even though you gave me the wattpadID , IF was called me back.. Darn this nostalgia..
Loving each and every thing about this story.
I always checked this story for an update. I don't know why, but I believed this story and arnav khushi need a happy ending and I will be able to read this
Like shahrukh Khan said "agar tum ki si cheez ko dil se chaho puri khainat usse tumse milane mein lag jaati hai". 😉
Thank you for coming back and continuing the story. It very close to my heart for reasons un known.
If SRK has said something, it is 100% legit!
Originally posted by: YellowBoots
Hey Guys, have updated.
A cyclone is expected to hit Mumbai tomorrow, so will be back in the morning with an update on that and my notes on the story.
It is Wednesday in Mumbai (just about), but must be Tuesday in some part of the world!!
Stay safe Radhika, as if we didn't have enough things to stay safe from.
What can I say about the update, except thank you, for allowing us into this world you have created.
These two, I hope they find the courage to move forward. One's heart warms up reading about them. Will be back if I find more words
Reserving a spot to come back with a long-ass comment. Fan-girling alert :)
Been a while since I 'res-ed' on IF. This story however, is absolutely worth it and more.
Edit: For some reason, IF is completely messing up the formatting each time I try to edit this comment, so I've posted my thoughts in a separate comment instead :)
What a wonderful chapter...too many things to process. Will her back in the morning on wattpad.
between.....take care and stay safe from the cyclone
Before I comment on the story in its entirety, here's mentioning a few of my favorite lines from this update lest I forget (hats off to your sense of humor, by the way) -
“Do mein Levi’s laga doonga, do mein pepe, aur do mein Wrangler.” - I just died laughing.
I mean, leaders might discuss the Gaza conflict, and Di could talk about getting her brother married into the mix - 😆
“Arrey wohi, jeejaji special – Arnav, Aakash and Aman,” Preeto went gleefully. - 😆
Khushi seemed horrified that his life had been so deprived all this time. No Red Fort. No Appu Ghar. No Toy Museum. No Lotus Temple. Nothing at all. “Every week we will go to one place,” she announced. - Awwww to the moon and back.
“Khushi, you look really beautiful today. Always actually. By any standards, South Delhi, South Mumbai, South India,” he said. - I'm laughing, but I also feel something warm and fuzzy inside my chest. The first compliment he gives her (on her looks), and I must say, 10/10 on delivery. Well done, Mr. Raizada.
And that is how they took a photograph of the two of them standing, with not an inch separating them, acutely aware of each other, their breath on each other. He put his hands around her waist, and she is. Ten minutes later, they got one copy of the photo. Khushi insisted that he keep it, and he didn’t refuse. - Could this possibly get any more adorable? No seriously, what are you trying to do, woman? I will keep imagining the two of them, hands around each other's waist, standing in front of India Gate till the next update. And every time I do, I'll have a guaranteed smile plastered on my face.
I could go on and on, I kid you not. I might come back in more detail on this update later once I gather my thoughts, but here's moving on to the story as a whole -
Tewari & Sons has all my heart. It really does.
Do you even realize what a gift you've given to anyone who is from, lives, or has ever lived in Delhi before by weaving this tale of yours? At one point, it became a treasure quest for me. What place would I chance upon next? Would it be Hauz Khas, or Khan market, or Lajpath Nagar, or GK, or Def Col? You can't possibly fathom my excitement each time the scene shifted to a new location and you peppered it with details that are so accurately specific to these places. (Btw, can't wait for Sarojini Nagar to make its debut in the story, in case you've planned for it. Or have I missed it somewhere? Please someone tell me I haven't!)
If the above weren't a sufficient enough reason for me to fall in love with this story, your characters and their honesty, the seamlessness of your writing, and just the sheer ease with which you've dealt with a subject as delicate as class differences absolute blew me away. This story is so real, it doesn't read like fiction at all. And this Khushi - if I've ever desperately desired to tear the wall between the real and the virtual and give a bear hug to a protagonist, she is it. So courageous, so innocent, and with a heart pure as gold. I loved how while she's always been well aware of her class differences with the rest of her New-Ons classmates, she has never been ashamed of it. She's never tried to hide anything, and has worn her identity proudly on her sleeves. Never once in the story does she hesitate to reveal that she's from Chandini Chowk, or that she's a halwai's daughter, or that her clothes are not branded. This, when she knows full well that given the background of her peers, she might be judged on all these counts in the blink of an eye. I have enormous respect for her integrity and honesty. (In fact, even in this particular update, she feels no shame in telling Arnav that she's getting tailored jeans made for herself that are going to have fake brand labels stitched onto them. How can you not love this woman?)
You know what's so special about this story? It feels like one has met these characters before in real life, in some setting or another - Arnav, Khushi, Anjali, Arjoon, Payal, even Poonam Raizada give off the vibes of characters that you'd easily come along in AD (especially if you're from Delhi). (Side note- the JNU comments were to die for 😆).
Try as I might, my comment will fail to do justice to the charm of this story. I remember having read the initial chapters a long time back, and even then had marveled at the sheer ease with which you pack so much into a single update. The narration is refreshingly different, and the pace is just perfect!
I'm so glad that you decided to come back and give this story its deserving end. Please also consider having it published once you've wrapped it up - would love to pass it on to some Delhi based friends who I'm sure would absolutely love reading it.
Much love.
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