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Fan Fictions

Arhi FF|Mohabat Door Jaane Na De| *Complete!* #3 (Page 59)

jojo21 Senior Member

Joined: 09 December 2012
Posts: 372

Posted: 31 January 2013 at 4:38pm | IP Logged
As expected you did not disappoint. All 44 chapters have been so fantastic taking us on a journey with this couple to really find themselves and each other. So beautiful. I'm looking forward to see more of the Anjali I wish we had seen on the show

I hope you continue this story.

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vandana.sagar IF-Stunnerz

Joined: 20 May 2012
Posts: 31442

Posted: 31 January 2013 at 7:52pm | IP Logged
Waiting eagerly for an update ! 

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imran78 Goldie

Joined: 02 November 2011
Posts: 1221

Posted: 01 February 2013 at 4:22am | IP Logged
I love this FF of yours.

When will you update, I am eagerly waiting.

Please PM me for the next update

Thanks in advance

Edited by imran78 - 01 February 2013 at 4:18am

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nisha_mehta IF-Rockerz

Joined: 08 September 2012
Posts: 5278

Posted: 01 February 2013 at 5:38am | IP Logged
Waiting for the update

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badfaith4u IF-Dazzler

Joined: 14 March 2012
Posts: 3581

Posted: 02 February 2013 at 3:12am | IP Logged
awesome story
I found this story and read all the chapters 
I wish this happened in the tv serial 

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henamani IF-Dazzler

Joined: 17 February 2012
Posts: 4381

Posted: 07 February 2013 at 3:57am | IP Logged
this is just too much :)
no update on any of ur FFs for so long

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-doe-eyes- Goldie

Joined: 25 October 2011
Posts: 1228

Posted: 08 February 2013 at 9:47pm | IP Logged

Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!!! I know I am tremendously late, but...I finally managed an update! *in your face, life!!* Please don't hate meCry

Though I think it fair to warn you...I spent all night writing this out, and I haven't had time to read over. Please let me know if you find anything that you would have me change...I would have taken more time working on this piece, but in two hours I'm leaving on another out-of-town trip, and will be staying overnight. And I know I've kept you guys waiting longer than is fair, so I was nearly writing like a mad person trying to finish this on time. So please lemme know if you don't find it up to scratch :)

And the most important thing- biiig thank yous and huge hugs to all my wonderful readers, everyone who has stuck by this story, everyone who has given me feedback, everyone who is equally responsible for bringing this FF so far! I couldn't have done it without you!! THANK YOU!!

Chapter Forty Five

If he had doubted what he had heard, he did not doubt it for long.

For between one blink and the next, the charming fury aglow across her delicate features as she scolded him about the merits of jalebis had ebbed away.

And the heated, angry red flush colouring her cheekbones had mellowed, the pearly lustre of her skin now a sumptuous strawberry-pink, while her tenaciously glinting, narrowed eyes sprang wider open, abashment and awkwardness sparkling in their black-coffee orbs before she tore them away from his face.

And even though her body twisted about fully in her seat, her hair swinging forward on cue to shield her candidly-transparent expressions from his view, it was not before he caught her nibbling on her bottom lip with a vengeance.

Not before the breathy, flustered exclamation of 'Hai Devi Maiyya!' drifted across to him, a stray piece of paper bearing secrets carried to him by the grace of the winds.

And hope, incorrigible, took flight once more.


Khushi, you stupid idiot! What in Devi Maiyya's name were you thinking?

Fingers fisted tightly into the folds of her saree, a contingency effort to keep from belatedly clapping both hands tightly over her runaway mouth.

Or succumb to the more tempting alternative- landing a sound slap across the face.

I wasn't supposed to say it like that! He wasn't supposed to find out like that!

Chagrin and humiliation brewed within her chest, asphyxiating even the eager throbbing of her heart, as her mind added to the torture by plucking out its most recent film reel of memory, feeding it through the projector of her mind's eye, leaving her the unhappy spectator to a rerun of her own mindless prattle.

'I can't believe I actually fell in love with someone who doesn't like jalebis!'

A noise midway between a groan and a whimper crammed into her mouth, impeded by the cage of her locked teeth, while the aggressive butterflies in her stomach burst back into life, torpedoing into the walls of her gut.

She felt nauseous.

It did not help that the microscopic, clear-headed part of her conscience, which had been inconveniently hibernating while she had been shooting her mouth off, was shrieking itself hoarse at her, disgusted by her inability to filter her speech.

It's your own fault. Why did you have to tease him? Why did you have to compare him to a jalebi? If you hadn't provoked him, he wouldn't have insulted them and you wouldn't have ended up calling him a kadwa kadela! Hai Devi Maiyya, what must he be thinking of me? I wanted to make this moment special and instead...Khushi gulped, feeling her flesh melt and bubble stiflingly like a pot full of boiling wax...instead I ended up giving him the impression that if I had my way, I wouldn't have fallen in love with someone who doesn't like those accursed jalebis!

I swear to Devi Maiyya, I am never going to touch those things again.

And I'm also going to keep my mouth shut for the rest of my life.

And when I get home I'm going to hide under the bed.

And maybe I should permanently change my name to Sanka Devi while I'm at it.

Preoccupied as she was with the morbid, masochistic pleasure of self-torment, pledging increasingly severe vows of atonement to what was currently a highly uncooperative goddess, Khushi did not notice immediately the flash of movement visible through the drapes of her hair.

And then his fingers slid purposefully under her jaw, cupping it in their firm, unrelenting hold, tilting her head toward him before she could think to resist.

And Khushi would forever vouch that what she saw had made her heart cease its beating.

The desperate hope visible and alive in the ecliptic, bronze rings of his eyes zapped right through her, like a single streak of lightning, piercing until it scorched her heart and shook her soul from the inside out.


He was so close.

So very close that their short, gasping breaths, getting more and more audible and weighted with each exhale, mingled in the negligible centimetres keeping them apart.

Too close.

Her brain should be going on red alert any minute now, convinced that this degree was proximity was hazardous for her health.

But for some peculiar reason she did not feel too inclined to probe into, familiar already with the sedating effect his eyes always seemed to have on her, to the point of making her forget herself, Khushi could sense the swirling mass of misgiving and inhibitions, the debilitating pangs of inadequacy and shortfall, gradually flushing out of her.

As though this one look of his had pulled out a plug, and all the cacophonous thoughts crowding her mind and wrangling her senses had simply drained away.

And in the light, restful silence left behind in the wake of her disruptive thoughts, the heartbreaking hesitancy of his last question whispered plaintively to her.

Did you just say you love me?

'Tell me, Khushi,' he bade steadily, but somehow this imperative command sounded so sweet and tender, so unlike his usual authoritative decrees, it was almost a plea instead, almost a request. 'Tell me if you said...what I thought you said.'

Dhak dhak. Dhak dhak. Dhak dhak.

His tenor was even and unruffled, light and calm, and yet, with the skill and adeptness of a connoisseur zeroing in to a single missed note in a complicated piece of music, Khushi did not miss the almost-hidden tremble. Did not mistake how his voice snapped with the fragility of a spider's web on that last word. With hesitancy that broke her heart.

And suddenly, the method of delivery did not matter.

What mattered was that it found its destination.



'It's so beautiful here,' Anjali breathed in awe, 'So...' she seemed to struggle a moment in search of an apt adjective, 'peaceful'.

She was leaning close to one of the foot thick, intricately crafted columns, examining with the round-eyed fascination of a schoolgirl the complex little figurines sculpted into the granite-grey, weathered stone. Though jaded over age and time, the detail was impeccable, and to Anjali's fascinated eyes, the miniature incarnations of tigers, little archers with their bows drawn, dancers frozen in the middle of a graceful pirouettes, almost seemed to come alive under the shifting light of the mild, pale gold afternoon sun.

She was spinning about on her heel to exclaim her wonder when she met gazes with Shashiji, leaning back in his armchair with his hands folded into his lap, a compassionate gleam in his eye and an indulgent smile on the verge of dimpling his genial face.

The affectionate, fatherly demeanour of the older man made unexpected tears spring without warning to Anjali's eyes, causing her to blink a little rapidly. She ducked her head, embarrassed, snatching up one hand to shield her eyes, trying to pass it off as no more serious than a little sunlight in her eyes.

'Have you never been here before?' Shashiji inquired gently. Anjali, infinitely glad for the change of subject, returned her admiring stare to one of the half-dozen columns evenly spaced out in the courtyard they were in.

'No, it's not that,' she confessed, an edge of sheepishness creeping into her voice as she offered him a half-smile, 'I have been here before but I have never stayed long. And I've never come here before,' she swept an arm around in an encompassing gesture, 'I never even knew there was a place like this here.'

Shashiji nodded at her as Anjali shuffled towards the sheltered spot she had parked his wheelchair, 'Not many people know of it, and if they do, they rarely have time to stop. Everyone always seems to be in a rush these days.

With a deep sigh of agreement, Anjali swiped clean a patch on an adjacent stone bench, clearing off a thin layer of dust and few dried leaves, before carefully lowering herself on to it. Dusting off her hands, she hefted her hair up and into a loose bun, trying to soak in the cool, light breeze wafting over the courtyard.

It was neither massive nor majestic, nearly walled away from view by large, ancient trees bending low with the weight of years around the boundary walls. And yet there was an air of regality here, a curious other-worldly feel, as though time had been bottled up and preserved in this enclosure, the fast-paced, continuously-moving world of the present fenced off by low, sturdy walls of solid grey stone.

It was really quite picturesque, Anjali meditated, sweeping her appreciative gaze over the quaint little courtyard with its cracked stone slabs paving the floor, bits of olive and jade peeping up haphazardly wherever the moss or weeds found enough space to grow. Right in the heart of the sanctuary was a raised dome, originally austere white but now a little ashy, housing a small idol of Devi Maiyya. Yet it was possibly the most magnificent one she had ever seen, embellished in scarlet and silver and gold, porcelain features aglow with her benevolent smile.

And flanking her on all sides, at what almost seemed a deliberately respectable distance, where the almost fragile looking columns Anjali had been so fascinated with. Tall and delicate, they were covered from head to toe with flowing, curving, elegant depictions of legends and myths and fables, so complex and skillful Anjali could not help but imagine the people who must have worked endless hours carving them, suspended over ground with makeshift ladders, chipping away with hammer and chisel, watching as stone took a life of its own under their deft fingers.

Lost in the imagery her mind eagerly constructed for her, quickly snatching up and incorporating little details and conjectures her imaginative mind supplied, Anjali sighed once again, a little distantly this time.

'Tired?' the softly placed question shook her out of her reverie, and dazedly blinking away the remains of her daydream, she was turning to face her companion with an apology for her distraction when he continued, 'I am sorry. It was remiss of me to tag along with mustn't be exerting yourself and the wheelchair-'

'Oh, no, it's nothing like that!' Anjali disputed instantly, flushing in embarrassment, ashamed that she had given him cause to think he was being burdensome.

Especially when his assumption couldn't be further from the truth.

'It was no trouble, I assure you,' Anjali continued earnestly, rotating around in her seat so she was facing him fully, chagrined, 'I just...this's so quiet. And serene...I haven't felt this peaceful in a long time.'

That last confession slipped out of her mouth before she could catch it.

But honesty did that sometimes. The truth, no matter how many times you try to rent it asunder, no matter how far away you fling it, no matter how many feet below the earth you inter it, is invincible, because it never changes.

And eventually finds a way to resurface.

Anjali bit the tip of her tongue lightly, hoping against hope that her admission was ambiguous enough to be deemed harmless. It wasn't as though she was lying, she assured herself a little anxiously. She really hadn't experienced such harmony, such degrees of accord with herself, for a long time. It had swooped up and over her, swaddling her up like physical touch, the minute she had pushed Shashiji's wheelchair a little haltingly through the small, ornate little archway behind the actual temple, one she had frequented many times before.

Like entering a whole new world, she said to herself, a small grin flitting over her lips at the image of Chote rolling his eyes at her 'dramatic' and 'cheesy' ways.

But that was what it felt like. There was something comforting about the quiet which wasn't really quiet here, a quiet that was more like the tinkle of glass windchimes, or the soft pittar-patter of rain against closed windows while one snuggled deeper within the warm covers of one's bed. Like that rare, priceless moment of absolute bliss which seeps into your bones when you wake up in haste, only to realise that there is nothing you have to do, unless you choose to do it. No obligations, no duties, no pretenses. Almost as though the moment she had stepped in, some spectral force had plucked the crushing weight bearing her closer and closer to the ground, had flooded light and hope back into those caverns where she had perceived nothing but darkness.

And she felt uplifted. As light as a feather, ready to catch hold of the next sweeping wind to begin a joyride through the heavens. And even though she knew this moment was no more than a tranquilizer, a brief, temporary bout of wildly-sought restfulness which only glazed over, but did not erase, her troubles- she would pick at crumbs if they were offered her.

Beside her, Shashiji's head was bent a little, as though he were in deep thought, the flitter of his lids showing that he was following the movement of the little emerald gemstones dancing at his feet, the dense green of the leafy branches above catching the sunlight and tossing their reflection to the ground. Humming with thought, he made a noncommittal sound which Anjali took to mean acquiesance to her reasoning before he spoke again.

'You know,' he began lightly, head still bowed, 'when I asked you whether you would bring me here, I did not really expect you to agree.'


Never before in his life had Arnav wanted anything this badly, for himself.

Craved, yearned. Almost begged for. Nearly prayed for.

To call him a selfless human being would be an incorrect estimation of his charater. He was selfish and he knew it. Depravation and destitution in the past had taught him to claim for himself what he wanted, rather than wait around for unreliable and entirely-too fickle forces beyond the realm of the human world to grant him his wish.

But whatever he had wanted- security, stability, comfort, success, luxury, happiness- he had not wanted entirely for himself. He had unwittingly turned breadwinner at a very young age, encountered the watchwords of responsibility and duty when he had watched his older sister, his grandmother, the only people he had left to whom he mattered, who mattered to him, fracture bit by bit as their misfortune piled over their heads. Everything he had striven for since the age of fifteen had not only been for his sake. It had been for the conjoined sakes of his family, the hub and reason for his existence.

He had found his contentment in their contentment, his satisfaction in theirs.

So he was quite unfamiliar with the concept of pursuing something, of channeling all his might and willpower, bargaining away his nights of sleep  and moments of peace, and brewing his mind up to boiling point, for something he desired.

For himself.

For his own happiness, his own contentment, his own future.

For himself, and himself alone.

And while he was no stranger to success and victory, having made them both unconditional stipulations in whatever the endeavour, this was the first time he was getting what he sought, sought with the single-minded tenacity of a lion on the hunt...

...and he had no idea what to do.


Her one word had handed over to him the key to the last gate barring his entry into heaven.

And Arnav had caught it like a piece of hot coal, juggling with it, trying to clench his blistered palms around it, clasp it to himself, without burning himself with the shock of it all.


He had seen her lips move around the word, seen the adoration well up in her eyes as she whispered it to him...

Could still see that tender emotion glimmering in those limpid, delicious dark chocolate orbs...

Could still see the quivers of her moist lips as their corners lifted upwards, a smile almost there but not quite...

Several heartbeats elapsed, but time stood still, as though it had forgotten where it was supposed to go.

And Arnav kept watching, enamored, the beginnings of the tremulous smile framed by the burnished, silken rivulets of her loosened tresses, waiting...waiting...for one indication, one single sign, which would either refute or confirm that he was having a preposterously vivid dream in the middle of the afternoon...

And then, her lips parted at the seams, and his wife smiled angelically, beatifically. At him.

And without further ado, the concentrated ball of tension and thrill and terror and anticipation and longing and love, which had been building and building, swelling and swelling, until it burgeoned against the walls of his chest with pain that was almost pleasure, combusted.

And rippled outwards like a sonic boom, waves upon waves of warmth and energy and life crashing outwards, raining down and enveloping every last breathing cell of his body.

It broke him and remade him in one heartstopping instance.


Khushi had a half-minute to absorb the breath-stealing bliss soaking in his features, with the ease of split water drawn up by table-cloth.

And then his tapered, intent fingers had clasped clumsily about hers, his unrepentant tug on them causing her heartbeat to go cannonballing.

And next thing she knew, his mouth was pressed against her palm.

Delicious little shivers overtook her heart, melting and dissolving into a pool of liquid warmth gushing through every nook and cranny her body possessed, until she was trembling all over. The invisible hairs at the back of her neck bristled, her spine stiffening with every lap of hot breath tickling over the press of moist lips, when...

...just as abruptly as he had started, he stopped again. And still bent over her hand, he had looked up at her.

Taking her back to that unforgettable evening at the poolside, where she had been sitting in isolation, wallowing in her grief, until he had staggered up to her, broken, and fallen to her knees pleading for her forgiveness. When he sobbed in abandon, sobbed himself dry in her lap.

Even then, she had looked down into his eyes as she did now, and even then, the same vulnerability had left her speechless.

'Again,' he demanded, the quiet rumble tingling in the air between them like static, 'Tell me again.'

Khushi did not require specifics to understand what he was asking of her.

If she had still been in her state of paranoia, catalysed by the blunder of, yet again, speaking before thinking, Khushi might have gone into another fit of hysterics at his words. Might have squirmed and wriggled from disgrace and humiliation, convinced that he was asking her to repeat herself because he did not believe her. Because he was sceptical.

And she would in all likelihood have blurted something equally thoughtless in her panic, and that would be that.

But Khushi was not in her state of paranoia anymore.

And she knew exactly what he was asking for.

Words. Articulate, crystal clear, indisputable words.

Not because he did not believe her.

Because, really, there could be no doubt, could there, that she loved? Not after he had heard her brazen, unpretentious dhak dhak. Not after he had seen how she would simply dissolve in his embrace when he held her. Not after he had seen her fall apart, simply from looking at the wound on his hand, breaking down into tears even as she studiously bandaged the cut. Not after she had openly avowed that she trusted him.

And especially not after this afternoon, when she had confessed to him, candidly, sincerely, that she had forgiven him, that she had put behind her the drearier, bleaker phases of their lives, and that she was ready to move on towards the future.

With him.

The ring she wore was proof of that.

But hadn't that only been possible after she had heard for herself, not once, not twice, but several times, the same words he now required her to utter? Hadn't she refused to believe until then that he might actually care for her, love her, in spite of the many different ways he had silently told her so?

And every single time, whenever her doubt and disbelief, her denial, had arisen, forming battalions about her to keep her from the dangers of getting her hopes too high, he had stripped away her reservations and her defences.

With words.

With words she could commit to memory, words which were like seals on certified documents, like signatures pledging to the reliability of a claim.

'I know I have done so much damage even a lifetime would not be enough to make up for it-but I also know that I can't breathe when you are away, I can't sleep when I think you might leave me...'

'But now Khushi's with you, and I trust her more than myself to make sure that nothing can happen to you...'

'But believe me... believe me, the more I hurt you, the more pain I gave myself. I wanted to punish you- for daring to try to become someone else's, when something in me knew that you were mine. I wanted to punish myself for letting you go. I was a beast, a piece of worthless trash- and I'm so, so sorry, Khushi, I'm so sorry...'

'And maybe I'm asking for too much...I know I'm asking for too much...but this pearl perhaps a weak, insufficient tie back together everything I'd torn apart before. To finally bring an end to the unhappy phase of our story...and start anew, from the beginning...'

'Why? WHY? Because I love you, dammit! That's why!'

'Khushi, I love you...'

'I love you, Arnavji. I love you so, so much.'

And before she could say anymore, Arnavji had cushioned his mouth onto hers yet again, forceful and insatiable where before he had been so tender and attentive, a frenzied moan muffled between the persistent pulls of his lips, taking, claiming, and giving back, all at once.

But not before he had, with unsteady voice and infinite joy dancing in his eyes, whispered it back to her.

They had used words to break each other in the first place.

It only made sense that they used words to replace those dour, dark memories, to heal themselves. Words to reaffirm the promises they had been making to each other, albeit without words, all along.


Before Anjali had a chance to speak, Shashiji had recommenced speaking.

'You see, it was difficult for you already. I could see how much trouble you were having climbing up the temple steps, without your crutches...and if it was not for the fact that your driver was with us, you could never have managed to help me up the stairs yourself...'

That much was true. Anjali was almost always accompanied by someone or the other on her trips to the mandirs, either Mami or Khushi or Payal, sometimes Nani, sometimes Akash if he did not have any pressing matters to attend to at work. Even Chote would relinquish some of his headstrong stubbornness and tag along sometimes, keeping a firm grip on her elbow as he guided her up and down the steps. The fact that he never crossed over the threshold of the mandir was a moot point. And their concern, though sometimes overbearing, was justifiable. Anjali's limp had always been a liability when it came to these steep, uneven stairways, especially during rush-hours when the multitudes paid no mind as they shoved and jostled their way forward.

And what with her the news that she was carrying a child, her family's protectiveness had grown by leaps and bounds, until, if they had their way, they would rarely allow her to cross beyond the four walls of their home.

But while their anxiety and concern touched her and warmed her heart, it had also made Anjali feel horribly inadequate. Useless. Hopeless. Helpless.

The secret she carried under lock and key with herself only made these self-doubting thoughts deteriorate.

'No, really,' Anjali insisted, a little faintly as she shook her head to drive home her point, 'Shashiji, it really was no trouble at all for me to bring you here. In fact-'

And here she ran short of words.

For Anjali had no idea how she could convincingly explain how much it wonderful it had felt.

To be relied on thus, to be trusted, instead of having to rely on someone else.

They had made a precarious pair, both hindered and made unsteady on their feet by some physical handicap, and while clambering up the altar had been a tiring, strenuous process...Anjali had been jubilant. She had been invigorated and excited, driven, because for once she was not slowing anyone down. Because for once she was matching step by step her companion. Because for once she did not feel as though she were imposing on someone else because she was incapable of fulfilling her wish on her own.

Because for once someone else had been dependent on her instead of she being dependent on someone else, and she had thrived on the experience. The experience of being entrusted with someone else's responsibility.

The experience of being gifted with unconditional, perhaps even undeserved faith, when her own self-esteem had been dithering dangerously.

And made her feel uninhibited, liberated oddly, like a little girl taken out for a trip by a favourite uncle. Carefree, unburdened by the baggage of grief.

'As I said,' Shashiji lightly continued, hitching his shawl a little more tightly about himself, 'I had not expected you to agree. But-' with a heavy, somewhat weary sigh, Shashiji smiled compassionately at her, 'I am glad you did.'

And before she could make further sense of his cryptic remark, he said, 'I had wanted to see whether you were sure enough of yourself looked like you needed to make peace with yourself, bitiya. Something tells me after coming did.'

Like it? Hate it? :s I'm not really sure what to think of it myself. 

Sigh. I never thought Arhi's love confessions could be as simple as 'I love you' and that's that. I hope the conflict I was trying to show came out clearly and wasn't too rambly.

Also hoping what Shashi-Anji's part was up to scratch. How he manages to help her will be elaborated in the next chapter. 

And I think I can promise some romance and playful moments between Arhi too :P

Please, please, please let me know your thoughts on the direction the story is taking? I'm eager to know if you approve :) 

Will be updating New Year's Resolutions soon...probably within the next 48 hours. It needs fine-tuning...pleeease bear with me?

I reserve all rights over this work of fiction and request that readers do not reproduce/copy/modify it elsewhere and/or claim credit. Thanks :) 

Edited by -doe-eyes- - 08 February 2013 at 10:22pm

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...pinky... Senior Member

Joined: 12 July 2012
Posts: 275

Posted: 08 February 2013 at 10:01pm | IP Logged
Aiyeee! First one to comment! I wholeheartedly agree! Excellent work! Please continue! Heart

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