She stared at him, her eyes trying to speak more words than her mouth would allow. She didn't understand, she couldn't understand. Was that him, his tanned face, his dark chocolate eyes portraying an expression of mistrust? She knew she was poorer, that she was less powerful but time and again she had proven her loyalty hadn't she? Proven her love?
She recalled that night. Sweat poured from every pore in her body, and yet as she stared at herself in the long mirror, she knew that it was the best she had ever looked. Jiji had spent hours applying foundation, blush, eyeliner mascara and any other form of makeup that had ever existed. She could accept the hours spent working on the makeup although intermittently she would tell her Jiji to hurry up and finish, her quota of patience running thin. She stared hollowly however, when the red goongat was placed over her head. It reminded her so much of' Arnav. She wanted to forget, to move on with her life. But as she stared into the mirror, into the eyes of her Jiji keenly watching her, she realized that her marriage with Shyam, will always be a compromise. Because, she had loved' Arnav. A teardrop landed on her cheek. Jiji placed a protective hand over her, said 'everything will be allright in the end Khushi, because our parents are always up there, as stars, only wishing the best for us'. Jiji was wrong.
She hesitantly walked unto the mandap, her long red ghaghra trailing behind her. She thought of him. He would have loved the red clothes she was wearing. Except, somewhere faraway, he was sitting in front of a mandap himself, chanting the prayers of marriage. His marriage with Lavanya. How fate had played with her, and him. Their wedding on the same day because of the auspicious muhurat. She walked unto the mandap, and saw a smile from Shyam. He wasn't going to get one in return. She wished that some magic happened, that she was no longer forced into the one compromise that she knew she had to live with. For Babuji.
Arnav sat on the mandap a sullen expression on his face. Khushi walked onto the mandap with the red ghaghra he had always wished to see on her. Came and sat next to him. She was stunning, an Indian version of the Greek goddess for beauty, Aphrodite. Her brown eyes reassured him, her silky locks hidden under the headscarf spoke to him. He stared at her. She smiled at him. He blinked. Lavanya was beaming up at him, a content expression on her bridal features. Suddenly he knew his life was spiralling out of control, knew he could not live without fighting that poor khushi, without loving her. He stood up. A gasp escaped from the hundreds of VIPs who had congregated at the posh wedding scene laid in front of him but the most audible had been from his sister Anjali, who had already been depressed as her husband had been unable to attend the wedding. He had had some important work. She had fretted and hidden her tears, but he knew. This was important though, it was the first time he had ever acknowledged his need for a physical person, but he knew he eeded her more than he wanted her. Needed her even to breathe. Without offering any explanations, he raced out the mandap as Lavanya and the Raizada family exchange baffled and shattered expressions.
He slammed the accelerator. He knew it was her big day, what if she had already married? Questions swirled in his head and he wondered why he was doing this. He hated her. And loved her. He couldn't bear to imagine her taking the sacred 7 rounds around with some stranger who didn't deserve her. How dare she? Suddenly his crazed emotions flew into anger as he couldn't understand how she could do this to him! How? Slammed the accelerator further. His facial muscles contorted into a familiar frown. As he reached her Mandap, he paused. Confused. Was he really doing this? Breaking his marriage to a classy, beautiful Lavanya who his family had accepted for her? Unconsciously he knew he was, it was the least he would do for her. But when he sprinted to the mandap, he was stunned. Heartbroken. Angry. Dying.
The man who was meant to be holding his sister's hands through all the rites of his marriage, the man who was meant to be with his wife in times of happiness and turmoil, was seated next to …Khushi, intent on holding hands with her in a sacred bond. Marriage had never held much importance in ASR's life, but he knew it did for his frail sister, whose existence, whose happiness depended on this one man. Murderous rage coursed through every inch of his body. Shyam had still not recognised the stranger a few metres away from his, his eyes were raking in the beauty of his bride, walking towards him. It was the last he would see her for a long time.
ASR marched onto the mandap. A slow, stunned silence coursed through the hall. Many recognised him as the ruthless businessman often reported on by ever-hungry news reporters. What was he doing here? On the mandap? Angrily grabbed Khushi's right hand, and exited quite the same way he entered.
Khushi couldn't understand. Her dream prince was whisking her away from the marriage that she dreaded so much and yet looking at the expression on his face, she wasn't happy. Forget happy, she was scared. Scared of the outburst her instincts kept screaming about. She wanted to hope, that maybe, just maybe, he loved her. The way she did him. Why would he take her away from the mandap otherwise? She kept darting glances at him through her mascara filled lashes at she struggled to cope with his steady speed due to the heaviness of her wedding dress. She wasn't sure of the reason of the tears, happiness, confusion, sadness but all she knew was she was tired. Tired and sick of her life being decided by others.
Arnav opened the door to his BMW, glared at Khushi to get in. When she hesitated, she was pushed into the car roughly and a pair of angry hands fastened her seatbelt. A swarm of relatives had gathered outside and a few shouted insults. Arnav couldn't care less. Once again, anger surged in his head, anger at this bride who wanted to steal his sister's happiness away, anger at that dirty man who knew not what loyalty meant. He frowned at her. He wanted to show her he was angry, to let her know that she wasn't going to get a rich lifestyle just because ASR had followed her to her mandap. But eventually, his frown turned into a look of wonder. She was breathtakingly beautiful, the red ghaghra highlighting her flawless pale skin. She had placed her intertwined slender hands on her lap, her glistening eyes intently staring at them. She was tired, tired to think, tired to ask him what was going on. She didn't want to get out of her dream world, because in reality, only hearts break.
ASR, with mixed emotions, revved the engine. Khushi clenched her eyes tight, fear overcoming her tiredness. ASR the ruthless businessman didn't want to care, Arnav did. He slowed the vehicle down and after a few minutes, asked, 'Why did you do this my sister?' Neither his voice nor his face betrayed any of his true emotions; a mask had veiled his features. Hearing his voice startled her, woke her up. She suddenly wanted to scream, to empty out the bottled frustration she had been carrying for weeks. Arnavji had ruined her marriage, albeit for the better, and what was he asking? About his sister? Where did Anjali ji come into any of this? She needed to know things and this was the time.
'Why did you do this to my sister?' he repeated.
Arnavji, WHAT ARE YOU DOING? ITS YOUR MARRIAGE DAY TOO! WHAT HAPPENED TO LAVANYA? WHY HAVE YOU LEFT HER ALONE? Khushi burst out her questions, and she knew these were less than half of them. The outburst had emptied her energy reserve. She wanted to know the answers desperately and yet didn't at the same time.
ASR was stunned. ' Don't ask silly questions DAMMIT! I did it because….
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