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Joined: 15 November 2011
the entire ff is amazingly beautiful !
the emotions were beautifully protrayed - khusi's attempt at making things easy for her and her slow acceptance for arnav's love after arnav came to know about the shyam faisco was gr88!
u displayed every flicker of emotions of undying love,warmth,passion,repentance extremely well!
arnav's repentance is going to be tough and he still needs to make it upto her! its not going to easy for him but still i appreciate his attempts! his confession - his silent but cautious efforts to win back khusi was outstanding !
i m speechless...i read all the parts!:D:D
can u plzz pm meeh??? a friend request on ur way!
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Joined: 25 October 2011
Chapter Twenty Nine
'Oh, Khushi, I completely forgot!' Payal slapped her forehead lightly, 'I still have your phone!'
They were still in the dining room, but this time busy laying the table. As Khushi set the plates in place, she answered, 'Don't worry about it, Jiji, you can give it to me later.'
'No, I think you need to charge it,' Payal lifted the last casserole from the huge tray Hari Prakashji had brought in, bearing the dishes for dinner, on to the centre of the table before heading towards her bedroom, 'you've been getting calls all day and the battery's gone down...'
'But who's been calling me all day?' Khushi called after her Jiji, who was already halfway to the stairs and turned back briefly to gesture at her to wait till she got back. Left wondering who could possibly have been that desperate to contact her, Khushi was just in the process of sticking a serving spoon into the nearest dish when she felt herself freeze, a familiar awareness creeping into the air as she felt her skin start to tingle.
Arnav had flicked through every single e-mail, sent out a couple of text messages and made a final phone call to confirm that there had been no new developments in Lucknow before making a beeline straight for the dining-room. His endurance had been worn thin, and in his defence, he convinced himself that as much as Khushi might need time to get used to the way their relationship had changed, and changed quite drastically, it would do no harm if he at least went to see her, speak to her, put her at ease around him, so she would not have any qualms in being with him, so that she could get used to being with him.
Because that was where she was going to stay.
Now, as he watched her still the minute he rounded the corner, even before he stepped into the dining room, he could not regret his decision. Halting in his tracks, he chose instead to lean against one of the white columns along the passage leading into the dining-room, drinking in his fill of the sight he had had to harness himself to stay away from all this while.
He did not even stop to think of exactly how he could become so completely dependent on someone to such an extent, to the point that even a few hours away from Khushi could work him up to such degrees of restlessness. But then again, it was not altogether surprising- he had, by now, completely grasped what his Di had attempted to school him about so long ago, at a time when he, in blatant ignorance, had dubiously labelled his sister as a hopeless romantic.
That the thought of seeing Khushi sad would plunge his world into gloom. That the thought of seeing her happy, and there would be bursts of colour raining in his life. That the thought of her leaving him...
Saansein rukh jaayenge...
He understood each and every word his Di had said. And as far as his sudden dependence of Khushi's mere existence was concerned...he shrugged it off casually. That's love, he told himself, half smirking at how unusual that sounded in his voice, regardless of the fact that it was in his head.
'Here you go,' Payal was back, coming from the opposite direction and not noticing her brother-in-law's silent appraisal of her sister, hidden from sight by virtue of the pillar. At the sound of her voice, Khushi turned from the table, and, evidently unintentionally, glanced in Arnav's direction. The minute their eyes met, she blushed a furious pink and averted eyes immediately.
And as much as he was used to her blushing and avoiding his gaze, there was something a bit- different- about it today. Perhaps it was the fact that her shoulders were not hunched over, rigid, as though she was attempting to shrink away from his presence. Perhaps it was the fact that her hands had not rolled into fists, her limbs had not stiffened as though bracing themselves for blows. Perhaps it was the fact that, even though she was looking away, she could not help her eyes fluttering towards him every millisecond and the enticing rose of her cheeks deepening to a mesmerising red every time he caught her at it.
She no longer looked like a cornered doe, a frightened little rabbit. No. She was more like a butterfly, a butterfly that had been caught off guard as it serenely danced in a garden where it thought it was alone.
Arnav's heart fluttered unbearably fast, and hope nearly bulldozed him over as the molten ball of flame that had been unfurling within him suddenly threw its wings open and rushed through him from head to toe. His heart knew- his heart could decipher the messages, the signals, that Khushi was unconsciously giving off.
The mute, in all probability unconscious, heart-wrenchingly diffident acceptance of his presence, in the same space as her, was unmistakeable.
It was as though the air itself around them had suddenly changed, that the waves of electric awareness that sparkled between them had suddenly found a new pitch and frequency.
He watched as the flustered Khushi took her cell-phone from her sister, glancing at the screen before frowning, momentarily side-tracked, and, he could tell, somewhat relieved for the distraction.
'Jiji...thirteen missed calls?'
Payal, after shooting a cursory glance over the table to check whether everything was at its place, walked over from behind her and peeped over her shoulder as Khushi rigorously punched away at the buttons of her cellphone.
'And all from the same number,' Payal added.
'But I don't even know this number.'
'I know...I think it's a prank caller. Because I picked up the first two times whoever it is called. And I could hear someone breathing on the other end but they weren't answering. After that I just put the phone on silent till the person got tired of calling...I was going to put it off but then, what with the storm and everything going on...maybe someone might actually be calling on an emergency so...'
'I'll go and charge it...Amma already told me off enough last night for not keeping my phone with me, I don't want to annoy her again-'
That was his cue. If Khushi rushed out now, knowing the tendency of his family members to seize any and every opportunity to demand her attention, he wouldn't get another shot at speaking to her. And what with all the preparations for dinner concluded, everyone would be flocking in their direction soon enough, calling her away from wherever she went, so even pursuit would be futile. It was with a guilty twinge that he acknowledged, ruefully, that he secretly wished the storm had lasted longer- he could have prolonged those blissful moments earlier in the day when he had had Khushi all to himself.
It occurred to him that possibly as much as an hour spent normally with his wife inside a car on a rainy day had made him a decidedly greedy man.
Payal smiled at him as he finally strolled casually into the dining room. But her smile soon faded as her gaze zeroed in to his bandaged hand, replaced immediately with concern.
'Jethji, what happened to your hand? Are you all right?'
He answered nonchalantly enough, 'It's nothing. Just a scratch...the coffee-table by the pool broke during the hailstorm. I just got a little cut from the glass...'
A little cut? He's calling that a little cut? An enraged voice shrieked inside Khushi's head as her eyes involuntarily shot up. Her locked limbs suddenly thawed as several electrocuting volts of current zapped through her.
To the face of her husband, standing there as though nothing even close to grave had happened. Which was a lie. Because something grave had happened, something very serious, something that was not a scratch or a little cut...Khushi felt fresh tears sting in her eyes as she recalled, vividly, how much blood had oozed out of the cut, how much blood she had had to rinse away before cleaning the wound, a thin but deep slash that almost ran from one end of his palm to the other. Vividly remembered the pain she imagined he would have felt, was feeling. The pain that seemed to magnify itself within her as she carefully, gently bandaged the wound. The pain that seemed to lay dormant within her before lashing sharply every time her memory strayed in its direction.
She blinked back tears.
Jiji had pressed on, 'Are you sure it's nothing serious? I mean...after all, it was broken glass-'
'It's nothing,' Arnav repeated again, reassuringly, kindly, patiently. And then as his eyes met hers, she felt her breath vanish halfway to her lungs.
The momentary emptiness in those unbearably expressive, hopelessly enchanting eyes of her husband made an ice cold chill run down her spine.
'It could have been much, much worse,' he continued quietly, looking her dead in the eye. Khushi could not look away.
Because she knew exactly he meant. Exactly what he was feeling. Because she was feeling the same. Now knew exactly what he was thinking. Because she was thinking the same. Knew exactly what he was trying to say...
...that she could have been hurt instead of him.
And he could never endure that.
Just as she could not endure it. The fact that he had been hurt instead of her.
The fact that he had been hurt because of her.
The fact that he had been hurt.
The uncharacteristic, ready candidness of her own emotions unsettled her.
...I think when you fall in love with someone, that person becomes a necessity...that person becomes necessary for you to live, for you to survive. That's what it feels like, anyway...
The door at the end of the corridor, the corridor that was devoid of shadows, flooded with light, creaked slowly open. Just a smidge. Just a crack. Khushi squinted to catch what it hid behind itself, willing it to swing about further...but to no avail.
But whatever it was behind that door seemed to have cast out a line, and it hooked onto her. And it began to reel her, gently but insistently, forward.
'Di, your medicine,' Khushi held out a glass of water with one hand and the pills laid flat against her open palm on the other.
However, Anjali's only reaction to Khushi, who had just scurried into the room hurriedly, flushed, short of breath and with an apologetic look on her face, was to gaze up at her with a slightly nonplussed expression, coloured by surprise, her eyes wide and her mouth very slightly open, the book on parenthood she had been reading limp in her hands.
After a few seconds, as she became decidedly less flustered than she had been, Khushi realised that Anjali was still looking up at her with what seemed to be faint astonishment and disbelief.
'Di?' she repeated, uncertainly, cautiously shaking the outstretched palm bearing her medication in front of her. But before she could completely begin to dread that Di had perhaps read the telltale signs of her discomposure and ventured a guess on exactly why she was so agitated, her sister-in-law broke out into a wide, toothy smile, the corners of her eyes crinkling characteristically.
'Khushi! You finally called me Di! I don't believe it!'
Khushi, stumped for the moment, could not think of anything to say.
The transition had occurred so seamlessly that her subconscious mind was no longer finely tuned to set off the siren every time she was about to address her sister-in-law. It was just natural to call her Di- Di, just as she called her Jiji, Jiji. As though she had been calling her Di all her life. It felt so...right. And Khushi knew exactly why.
Her mind spiralled back to the letter, her letter, which was currently nestled decorously inside the small ornamental box she kept her jewellery in. The letter that snuggled against her heart, its warm embrace reminding her of her recent realisation: that there was no need for misgivings, no need for reservations anymore. She no longer had to be on her guard, because she was no longer in danger. Her steps no longer had to be tentative, because the erratic bends and curves of the road ahead had disappeared. Instead, there was only one path, headed straight out in front of her, where she could see each hurdle, if there would be hurdles, long before they came. She could now set foot out of the shadows without the fear of being assaulted.
If only her heart had waited for her mind...her heart that had plummeted forward down that lit corridor, leaving her mind, stubborn, refusing to budge, behind, kicking up dust with its feet because it could not understand the rush. Heart that was drunk with promise. Mind that remembered pain. Heart that hoped. Mind that doubted. If only she could pluck up the courage...and set foot further, towards that door tantalisingly opening millimetre by millimetre.
But still, that sudden freedom, the sight of the beaten iron bars of her cage shrivel and wither into nothingness, enshrouding her with infinite space and unencumbered horizons, rendered Khushi quite incapable of speech.
Not that Anjali required her to speak. Caught up in her almost child-like excitement, she practically bounced to her feet and threw her arms around Khushi's neck in glee, causing Khushi to stumble back a step in alarm before catching herself, standing precariously with arms stretched out on either side, trying not to drop either the glass or the pills that she had come in bearing.
'Careful!' she called out anxiously, half-afraid that Di's exuberance would end up knocking both of them to the ground, 'The baby!'
Anjali bounced a step back, a flash of anxiety crossing her face before she smiled broadly once more. 'Oh, you worry too much, Khushi, I'm not that careless!' she chirped, grabbing Khushi's upper arms and steering her about before pulling her down to sit across from her on the bed. Khushi had just managed to keep the glass from spilling its contents onto the sheets when Anjali bubbled up again, 'I'm just so happy that you're finally calling me Di! Now it feels like you're my sister...Anjaliji sounds far too formal, doesn't it? I didn't like it, it made you feel kind of distant...but I'm so glad!'
As Khushi watched the excitable twinkle in Di's eyes grow brighter, watched her cute dimpled smile, the genuine happiness that titivated the glow that her pregnancy had endowed upon her, she could not help herself from smiling too. That was the kind of effect Di tended to have on people; she was so loving, so affectionate, towards anyone and everyone around her, so easy to please the she could become transported with delight with such small things, that one could not help feeling attached to her, could not help wanting to please her, keep her from harm, protect her.
Only a very lowly creature, a creature crawling out from the pits of hell itself could even dream of hurting someone as innocent and vulnerable and lovable as Anjali. Khushi felt a spark of that familiar rage and loathing flash through her. To keep herself from giving away her disgust for Di's husband, Khushi hurriedly held up both her hands.
'All right, all right! But just because I called you Di doesn't mean you get to skip your medication...you're going to take each and every one of these pills...the doctor said one each after dinner, remember? And on top of that you haven't had your regular pills either...'
Di grimaced fleetingly as she lowered her gaze with distaste to the assorted tablets that Khushi was holding out for her.
'Oh, I hate taking medicine,' she mumbled, putting on an expression of exaggerated sorrow, taking the glass of water from Khushi and popping a pill into her mouth with the other. Gulping it down with a swig from the glass, she continued, 'as though all the pills I have to take everyday anyway were not enough.' The corners of her lips turned down morosely and Khushi giggled.
'I was almost relieved when you did not turn up on the dot with the medicine like you usually do,' Di continued, picking up another tablet, 'I was almost hoping you had forgotten when you were late...'
In the process of drowning down the rest of her medicine, she missed that fact that Khushi had suddenly gone bright red, her eyes glazing over as she was remembered certain singular events that had happened before she had rushed into Di's room.
Staring up at the ceiling crisscrossed with a multitude of stars that he was still waiting to share with his wife, Arnav was remembering those exact events as he lay down in the middle of his bed, which suddenly seemed to have grown to impossible proportions, with a breadth of far more than one person deserved to use. It only served to remind him, he thought almost bitterly, of the fact that once again Khushi was going to be sharing a room with Di.
If this situation persisted any longer, Arnav's Khushi-deprived insomnia would prove to become a serious issue.
Sighing resignedly, he allowed himself to reminisce about events earlier that evening. And especially about the little encounter he had had with his wife before she had escaped to Di's room.
His family had lived up to his expectations, and throughout dinner he could not so much as catch Khushi's eye. This had much to do with the fact that she was listening with rapt attention to either Payal filling her in about how the doctor had told them that afternoon that Bauji would be discharged from the hospital any day now, that he ought to get on his feet as soon as possible to regain mobility in his limbs, or to Nani instructing Khushi about traditional remedies always being the best cure for a cold, having procured one herself that evening, a conversation that eventually reduced to a heated argument between Nani and Mamiji, who preferred the more newfangled therapies, and Khushi was forced to become peacemaker.
But it also had to do with the fact that Khushi was evidently taking particular care to avoid looking in his direction. Evidently taking particular pains to latch on to anything that came her way so she would be occupied the whole time, and not let herself stray. And as much as that bothered him, Arnav could understand why. After all, ever since he had met her on that fateful night of the fashion show when she had literally fallen into his arms from above, he had given her much occasion to think he disliked her intensely. And in this past month any doubt she might have had must have consolidated into concrete belief of his hatred for her.
So, all of a sudden, faced, with the irrefutable fact that he had been in love with her all along, that that had been the reason behind his unscrupulous attempts to drive her away, would be quite a lot to stomach. And especially if so much changed so suddenly- his own pitiless guilt, his omnipresent regret, his discovery and understanding of love, not just for Khushi but for and from his entire family- it all left him dazed, dazed and definitely overwhelmed, unable to grasp the way he seemed to have stumbled out of one existence to an entirely different world altogether. And she probably felt as disoriented as him.
She needed space, and she needed time, and Arnav was willing to give her both... with, of course, a few minor lapses. After all, she needed to be reminded, and reminded constantly, that he would always be there, for as long as it took, waiting in the sidelines if need be, waiting for her to reciprocate the feelings he harboured for her. His constant presence acting as the catalyst that speeded up the process, winning back the trust that he craved so dearly.
Which was why Arnav had seated himself in the midst of the rest of the family in the living-room after dinner, which in itself was not an altogether usual practice with him. It had almost become a time honoured tradition that he retreated straight to the confines of his room after dinner, feeling out of place and incongruous in a setting of relaxed, mundane chatter. Today, however, he was content to watch as Khushi absently caressed Laxmi's head while playing the part of spectator as Mamaji and Akash faced off in a chess match, Mamiji cheering her son on and overflowing with advice that if Akash had the bad sense to follow he would soon come to grief. No longer disillusioned about not belonging, about not being wanted, but accepting the place that had been reserved for him all this time and occupying it silently.
He knew that his peace of mind had much to do with the sight of Maa's bangles embellishing Khushi's innate glow, glinting merrily at him as Khushi riveted all her attention onto the chessboard, not looking away for even a second. He smiled. If nothing else, that indicated that she at least had to make a conscious effort not to acknowledge his presence. Not to be affected by it and cloud her thought processes.
Those bangles were a great source of comfort. They confirmed that at least one loose end that had been flailing in midair from the past had been caught firmly and tied up. His mother's wish had been fulfilled and her blessings had now stepped in to accompany him and Khushi in the journey they had embarked upon together, unknowingly, so long ago.
And they were also a concrete reminder, concrete evidence, that Khushi was his wife. Her name tied to his. Her life intertwining with his. Somehow the sindoor on her forehead and the mangalsutra around her neck did not bear the same consolation as the kangans did- after all, women who were getting married everywhere in India had sindoors and mangalsutras. And there was also the uncomfortable knowledge that when he had taken Khushi for wife, he himself had placed no importance whatsoever on those symbols that made a married woman stand out, he himself had disregarded them.
But the regret that would normally grip him at moments like this had its effect somewhat marred by the joy he felt at finally having something they he could see, and touch, and feel, that would prove to him that he had not made a complete joke out of marriage, that institution that had bound him, for eternity, to the woman he loved, had made her a permanent part of his life. Those bangles that his mother had specifically kept aside for his wife...
It was poetic justice almost, he thought wryly, that now that he finally understood the sacred bond that matrimony symbolised, it was too late. Almost everything in the way they had been married had been disfigured; ignoring the rituals, the short, stunted ceremony in the temple...they had not even been engaged...
Not to each other, anyway.
Arnav cringed at the thought as the gall rose in his throat. Although he had had the foresight in not getting engaged himself, in backing away with the knowledge that he would be doing great injustice to both Lavanya and himself by going through with it, it did not change the fact that Khushi had been engaged. He winced, and noted, drowning once again in the acuteness of his own foolishness in letting his ego blind him, that it did not even have to do with the fact that she had been engaged to his brother-in-law. In fact, being engaged to Shyam probably guaranteed that the engagement was not meant to last for long. After all, how long could he have hoped to delude two families, poised to be linked together by marriage between Akash and Payal, and continue playing his two-faced tricks?
No...if she had been engaged to someone else, it would have been much, much worse. Because the engagement would not have been broken off. Because she would have become someone else's and he would have been too late.
He felt a chill crawl through his flesh at that thought, felt his breath disappear completely. Felt himself sinking rapidly...
No. He was not going to allow himself to be captured by the tentacles of the even darker, even more desperate possibilities of the past. What mattered now was the present, the future, and making right everything that he had done wrong, everything that he had been about to do wrong, once and for all.
And an idea struck him, very much like a solitary lightbulb flickering to life in a dimmed room. An idea that would bind Khushi to him further, an idea that would enshrine the principle of marriage that had made her Mrs. Khushi Arnav Singh Raizada in the first place.
It was then that he had managed to resurface from the ocean of his reflections to realise that Khushi was no longer in the living room.
He did not even stop to think as he got to his feet immediately and set off to look for her.
And for some strange reason that he also did not stop to think about, his feet led him of their own accord towards his room. Where he knew, although he was not sure how, Khushi would be.
And he was right. As he turned the doorknob and pushed it open, he watched a figure clad in pale pink jump slightly, halfway across the room, the motion causing the anklets around her feet to ring out. The sound made him smile as he stepped inside, pushing the door closed behind him.
He watched as, like clockwork, his feet moved forward towards her, Khushi's eyes dart everywhere in their frantic attempt to avoid looking at him. Dressed in a pale pink salwar kurta, her braided her slung over one shoulder, a dupatta hanging carelessly off one shoulder...
Reminding him of the Khushi that she had been when he had fallen in love with her- with the loud, pom-pom embroidered, multicoloured salwar kurtas that she used to wear, the multitude of hairclips disciplining her luxuriously long hair, her dupattas that always seemed to find a way to him...the Khushi that was slowly coming back to him now. The Khushi that he knew inside him could never change, would never change. Because how do you change something so pure? Something so untainted, untarnished, untouched by any vice the world could throw at her? She could momentarily lose her glow...only to flame brighter than ever before.
There was barely a foot left between him and Khushi now.
'You changed,' he observed softly. Hope fluttered its wings excitedly; Khushi, albeit flustered, albeit flushed, was not flinching away from his closeness- she was still fidgety, still restless...but she was not edging away.
Khushi glanced up briefly at him before the red in her cheeks blossomed even more pronouncedly and she focused instead on the top button of his shirt before timidly clearing her throat and responding, 'Yes...woh...the doctor said Di shouldn't stay up late into the night and since I'm going to be in her room...and I needed to give her her medicines too...'
Arnav groaned inwardly. Up until that point he had completely forgotten about the sleeping arrangements that had been put in place courtesy of Nani. And his concerns about Di, his resolve to tell Khushi everything about Shyam, had also managed to slip his mind. But he could see that Khushi, clutching a paper bag stamped with the logo of the hospital, containing what he presumed would be Di's medicine, was prepared to escape at any moment.
'I see...' he answered instead, deciding to dwell in his displeasure later, deciding to keep what he wished to say to himself a while longer. Khushi was already disconcerted; she didn't need any more on her mind... and then...he did not want to ruin the moment by bringing harsh reality in between them. He took one last step to close the distance between them. Khushi's eyes flickered up to him, mirroring her alarm.
She did not step back.
'I- I-' she hemmed, averting eyes once more, 'I need to give Di her medicines...the doctor said after dinner and I-'
'Oh, I'm not stopping you going to Di,' Arnav murmured, his heart accelerating a mile a minute as the beast within him shook the sleep out of its head and roared with pleasure as he inhaled, deeply, into the fragrance of jasmine emanating off of Khushi. Instinctively, his arms wound their way around Khushi's slim waist before gently pulling her towards him. He felt Khushi's muscles lock, her body become rigid, the minute they made contact.
'It's just that there's something you're forgetting,' he whispered, the few inches left between his face and hers disappearing rapidly. He watched, pleasure coursing through his veins, Khushi's eyes widen in shock as he leant even closer.
Before tilting his head to one side, leaning in and grazing his lips, slowly and deliberately, against her sensitive earlobe, hearing her gasp, her fist shooting up to her heart. Against the intricate curves of her ear. She shuddered against him. He breathed in deeply into the intoxicating fragrance of her skin and her hair, drinking it in to sustain him through another sleepless night, the feel of Khushi's soft body moulded into him a feeble compensation for the hours she was going to be away from him, before whispering hotly against her delicate skin, 'Goodnight, my little dragonfly.'
And he released her. A flash of pink disappeared with uncanny speed and he heard the door slam shut even before he had turned around.
Now, staring up at the little lights blinking down at him as he lay with one arm behind his head against his pillow, Arnav sighed again. Since there was not the slightest of chance that he was going to get any sleep any time soon, he decided instead to plan ahead- to plan exactly how he was going to put his little idea into practice.
Okies then...loads of hints in this chapter for what to expect in the coming ones...or what to look out for at least :) One thing that I can say for certain is this: next update will probably be critical in the resolution of Khushi's conflict between mind and heart. After all, she's been through a lot of pain...even though she knows Arnav loves her, it can't be easy for anyone to forget that sort of suffering...and then she needs to figure out what her own feelings are too...I just hope all this is turning out credible; with all this revision I'm not getting much time to sit and craft my plot the way I would like to :(
Anyway, please leave your likes and feedback :)
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