Joined: 26 June 2007
Khushi sat on the edge of her fathers bed. This man, this wonderful man had taken her in, and never treated her any differently than he would have his own flesh and blood. She watched him tell his story, face alive with expression, always calm, always in control, she admired him for it. She loved him dearly, and as much as she tried to focus on what he was telling her; that he was fine, it was only a mild heart attack, the doctors didn't say he was at risk, she couldn't help but think about how angry she was that nobody had told her. She was nothing but a single phone call away, what had stopped them from calling? If Payal, Buaji and her mother had been too preoccupied with his safety, what was cool headed Shyam doing, she always thought he was good in a crisis, she would have to ask him about it later. No, she wasn't letting it go, this was her father they were talking about, no one was getting off that easy.
For once in her life she felt pleased that that Laad governer had lost his temper again, or she would have still been at the mansion, taking part in festivities to remember their departed, when she had very nearly just lost one of her own. And for once, she didn't feel angry or upset or dejected that he has lost it with her again. She understood, she knew exactly what it felt like. To lose someone you love, and know that you can never see them again. Never talk to them when you feel alone, never see them smile at the small joys in life, she had missed out on her real parents, but she had got a new family, a loving family. Her Jiji kept her sane, showered her with so much love that she hardly felt any absence. For the absence was horrid. She never in a million years would wish it upon anyone, loneliness, an empty abyss of shadows, darkness and nothing else. Is that what he felt like? She wondered. No, it maybe worse for him, but he had his Di. He was not all alone. The thought brought a sudden cheeriness to her eyes, what she had lost since she had found out that his parents had passed away that day. She clenched her fists at the thought, Khushi, always loud mouthed, always landing herself in trouble. She didn't mean to be too nosy or get involved in their personal matters. She had just sort of let the comment slip, unaware of the angry eyes staring at her from behind. She felt like she deserved the rest of it. He was never ready to listen to anyone, always angry. She never wanted to get involved, but Nani asked her to, she couldn't have said no, could she? And then he asked her to leave, just like that, get out, he didn't even let her spe...
"Khushi?, child, are you allright?"
She looked up to find the weary old man in front of her looking anxious, cautious almost. He laid his hand on her shoulder and she bolted awake from her daze.
"Yes Babuji!, my heart is happy, and fine, one day all those Jalebis will take effect and my heart might have problems, but today I'm not the one who just suffered from a heart attack, now would you like me to steal some sweets in for you when Amma isn't looking" she raised her eyebrows cheekily at him, and the smirk that fell upon his face reminded her of a not so different one she had seen upon another face, a much younger, very handsome face just a few days ago.
Why does every thought lead me back to him?
Why does every thought lead me back to her?
He sat on a white covered mattress on the floor next to his sister who was expelling a nervous aura due to the absence of her husband. He might have been more aware of it if he hadn't of been lost in thought of her. He had done it again, yelled at her, said things he shouldn't have and then let his ego get in the way of apologising. No, it wasn't his fault, how could he have known? Well, if he had just let her speak. Why, always her, why do I feel, for the first time ever, remorse when I do something that I have been doing for years. I am Arnav Singh Raizada. Business tycoon, I can yell at workers in my home if I please. But she was not just any old worker, he knew that deep inside, but he blocked that thought out, his ego and defence wall getting in the way. It would be different this time though, he would wait for her to come in the morning and he would apologise, maybe she would be back the same day, knowing how interfering she was. Even when he wanted her out of his life, she always seemed to find her way back to him. Surprisingly, he realised that despite what he showed, he didn't really mind all that much. She was always falling back to him, literally. He smiled at the thought, but realised what he was doing and retracted it before it had even reached his eyes. What is this girl doing to me? No, she is just clumsy, and nosy, and very energetic so I can't help but think of her, there is nothing more, nothing more at all. He felt himself having an internal argument over it. What exactly was his relationship with her, should he even apologise, did he need to, what if she had forgotten. No, he had really messed up big this time, he would say sorry even if it killed him. He watched the fire in front of him as he contemplated, flashes of the red and orange in the flame reminding him of colours. Colours that complimented her skin and made her glow. Colours of her scarf, that he frequently found obstructing his vision. Colours of her cheeks as she flushed when he would shout at her. Colours of the metals she wore around her ears and in her hair. Colours that he loved.
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