Hey all! OK, I've been replying to comments...not done with all of them, but I'm working on it:) Please bear with me for a while...
And a little note. The video that Anjali was watching- I would encourage speculation, but please do not make assumptions :P I am yet to reveal exactly what it was she had been watching that made her react the way she did.
Chapter Thirty Two
Khushi could not stop laughing.
And she could not understand why.
This was the second time in two days that she had been moved to merriment- genuine, spontaneous, unrestrained laughter that seemed to bubble from her very core, spilling out incessantly, like fresh white foam converging where sea hit shore. Except this time the force was even more compelling, and she felt herself fall short of breath, gasping in between peals of hilarity, feeling her ribs ache with the effort of withstanding so much- delight? Delirium? Amusement?- streaming out of her. The curious impassiveness of her mind did not even point out to her, devoid of all panic, all mortification, that she was laughing her heart out in front someone she had, at a point, been afraid to even smile before.
However, mind seemed to have developed an almost cynical sense of humour of itself. Not trying in any way to rope back control, it played instead for her the question that had started off this chain reaction in the first place...a question that had stubbornly persisted in her mind, like the drone of a honeybee against a glass window, despite repeated attempts to crush it into non-existence.
...I was just wondering whether you broke the main tap in the guestroom bathroom?
And after one minute of staring at her looking dumbstruck, his jaw had clenched and he had nodded in the affirmative.
Confirming an almost unwelcome suspicion Khushi had harboured for quite some time, one that she had even been too afraid to even consider for too long for fear of being confronted with facts she had been too cowardly to meet. But without her ever vigilant defence mechanism, which had somehow been detonated by her Bauji as he pulled aside the drapes barring her view of reality that she had desperately attempted to keep closed, Khushi could not run from herself any longer. Especially after...he himself admitted to what she had suspected all along.
He had broken that tap in the guestroom bathroom, had taken the initiative in moving all her possessions out of there into his bathroom without waiting to ask...simply because he wanted to show her that...even- even her clothes, which hung now in his closet, the trunk they had been packed having mysteriously disappeared...
Khushi could no longer resist those gestures anymore. She could no longer try to analyse them. The chorus of her overjoyed heartbeats rang out louder as she finally allowed herself to accept something she had been trying to deny for far too long...that he wanted her in his life. He wanted her, not only to be a part of it...
...but to share it with him.
And that had a sobering effect.
***
Anjali leant back against her armchair, her eyes closed, her heart content.
She had just returned to her room after an excursion to the poolside, one that had been cut short just at the balustrade at the head of the steps descending upon the side of the pool. Where she had clapped eyes on the couple seated below, oblivious to the world, Khushi dissolving helplessly into laughter, and her Chote simply sitting there gaping at her with a lovestruck expression plain on his face, looking so smitten Anjali had an almost irresistible urge to pull his cheeks.
Staring up at the ceiling now, Anjali allowed herself to finally steep in peace, in contentment. The past month had been a strenuous one, although she had tried, she had endeavoured hard, to deny it to herself. Ever since Chote had gotten married, she had tried hard to convince herself that Chote's perfunctory wedding, his aversion to coming home and his marked reticence, Khushi's jaded spirit, the fact that her fragility was suddenly more pronounced, her exuberance almost stubbed out, looking so...so...sad sometimes Anjali had felt her heart quake...were not too grave, were only in passing.
She had repeatedly, continually chanted reassurances to herself, brainwashing herself into believing that Chote was just being characteristically distant, that the pressure from work had increased because Akash wasn't there to share the burden, that Khushi was simply caught unprepared, finding herself married suddenly, away from her family, without her Jiji to give her company.
Because there was an uncomfortable knowledge settling heavily in the pit of her stomach, a horrible foreboding refusing to go away, that something had gone terribly wrong with the very marriage that had pushed her to take the most drastic decision of her life- her first, her only decision made independently of anyone else. Harbouring the darkest secret of her life for the sake of the happiness of the two people whose happiness had grown to mean everything to her.
***
They had been sitting there, both quiet, for almost five minutes now, neither stirring. Khushi's laugh had died down, but its effect lingered. Arnav had the strangest sensation that that loud, unreserved laugh had rinsed away some of the severe detachment of the poolside, that uncompromising perfection that a couple of months ago was reflected in every brick of this house, speaking in no uncertain terms about the affluence of its owners, but robbing it of its life. Now, with the freshness of glee and cheer infused in the breeze, Arnav found it easier to breathe, the air as refreshing as a cool glass of water on a parched summer day.
And that wasn't all.
Both he and Khushi were still seated side by side, the first aid box the only obstruction between them, facing straight ahead. Gazing upon the shimmering, undulating surface of the water, watching as the reflection of the stars above, carelessly scattered across the dark satin sky, and the lights mounted along the walls, prancing across it. Arnav watched her out of the corner of his eye, fighting the temptation to turn fully around and gaze at her instead.
She hadn't walked away.
He had watched, spellbound, as Khushi's laughter subsided, watched as she drew in a long, deep breath, eyes closing gently as she appeared to bask in the sensation, before opening them again and allowing them to trail over the pool. Watched as a small smile lingered about her lips. Watched the delectable pink that also remained against her cheeks, watched as the mirth that had made her rock back and forth on her seat was replaced by peace, by contentment.
Comfortable. With him sitting there, right next to her.
Arnav felt a lump in his throat. This time, though, he was not choked with regret, with lament, or guilt, or remorse. This time...it was joy that rendered him incapable of breathing. It was hope.
***
For some reason, Khushi did not feel any of the discomfiture, any of the embarrassment that she would have expected herself to feel on any other day, having let herself go so thoroughly. Neither did she feel the need to offer an apology, or even an explanation. Somehow, it was...natural. It was as natural as bursting out laughing in front Jiji, or Nanheji, or Mamaji, knowing that it was...accepted, understood, welcomed.
It was almost as if...almost as if they had somehow gone back in time, when she had had no qualms about being herself in front of him, being in her element- dancing, singing, laughing, joking, playing pranks and pulling impersonations...
He had seen her for exactly who she was. Even when she had started bounding up and down when that dragonfly had entered the room, shrieking in fright, making a proper fool of herself as she begged him to get it away from her as though it had been a life threatening situation, he had merely looked- amused. He had humoured her. And he had called her...
Khushi gulped.
My little dragonfly.
His little dragonfly.
Despite knowing about the undeniable idiosyncrasies of being who she was, the same traits that had engendered numerous colourful nicknames for her from Buaji...he wanted her in his life. Tirelessly reminding her of her place there. Waiting for her to claim it. Visibly relishing in each moment that she shared with him...
...like she was relishing this restful calm they were sharing right now.
Did she trust him? She didn't know. Did she doubt him? No. Not when sincerity reverberated from every word he spoke, from every action. Not when he didn't bother hiding something as awkward as breaking a bathroom tap to bring her, even if symbolically, closer...
But there was some doubt, some misgiving about whether this would last, as her Bauji had informed her there was likely to be. And Khushi was annoyed with herself. Heart felt irked, riled up at her inability to dispel her doubt, her inability to fulfil that immutable desire to trust. She had been told to listen to her heart. And her heart wanted, it wanted badly, to trust him. And the only way to dispel her doubt was if she...if she cleared them herself.
'Arnavji?' she heard herself whisper softly, breaking the companionable silence, 'Can I ask you something?'
***
'Yes', Arnav answered without even a second's preamble. Yes, yes, yes. They needed this. Talking to each other, candidly, honestly, was the only way they could clear away the reservations that still remained, could smooth out the creases that their past had left on their future, the few remaining miles of distance keeping him away from his Khushi. He would answer all her questions, no matter what they would be.
Khushi appeared to hesitate a while, pinching the cloth at the edge of her pallu with both hands as she began to wring it slightly. He smiled a little. That was always a giveaway of how nervous she was. But, thankfully, he could not dwell too long on exactly what she was going to ask that was proving so difficult for her, because, being the plucky person he knew his wife to be, it did not take her long to come out with it.
'The picture- um- the picture in your wallet...when did you...why did you...?' Her voice, starting off rather high, faltered and then trailed away as she fixed her stare resolutely at a corner of the swimming pool, her skin blazing an angry red.
Arnav felt almost relieved when he heard the question, turning about to look at her while feeling a smile cross his face. There had been no need for the fleeting dread that had pricked at him, fear that she was going to uncover one of those grimy, unsavoury relics of their past where he had been the major stakeholder of destruction. This question...was almost too easy to answer.
'Di put it in my wallet,' he answered casually, watching as Khushi's fingers paused momentarily in their frantic fiddling with her pallu, 'at some point during the night of the wedding...I suppose she was trying to spur me on. Goad me into telling you how I felt about you as fast as possible.' There was a laugh in his voice as he said that, remembering the faint shock he had received when he had flipped his wallet open to find the same person that resided in all his thoughts materialising before his eyes. And more shocking still, it had been concrete proof that Di was onto what was happening, that she had been deliberately instigating him against the idea of Khushi with NK to get him to do something...and he did not mind at all.
Khushi sat ramrod still, her back straight, her hands fisted into her lap. Only the erratic chewing away at her lower lip revealed the conflict raging within her. Arnav waited for her to ask the only question that she could ask, that anyone would expect her to ask.
And she did. 'Why...why didn't you take it out...after...?'
A sigh escaped Arnav, a heavy sigh underscored with a slight tint of graveness.
'I kept telling myself that I couldn't be bothered, I couldn't care less...' he started heavily, 'but the truth is...I didn't have the heart to take it out. Even though- back then- I didn't want to admit this to myself- but this was a weak way of trying to keep a piece of you with me.'
He did not know whether he could put into words those dark, despondent evenings he had spent late in his office, his wallet catching his eyes ever so often, how he would accidentally on purpose drop it in such a way that it would fall open, how he would fool himself into thinking that he didn't care when it did, staunchly disregarding the weak flutter of his heart in those moments. But words which he could not articulate could be conveyed in other ways, and he held her eyes earnestly as she turned back slowly to face him, her posture relaxing somewhat, willing her to read the truth in his eyes as he could read the sudden wonder in hers.
There was a pause, during which neither seemed to blink. She did not look away. The unflinching steadiness with which she held his gaze did not speak of doubt or suspicion. It spoke instead of what could almost be defined as awe- awe that she had asked that question, awe that he had answered it. But he could tell- he could tell that the message and all its connotations had hit home, and minute the pink blush in her face deepened to more seductive crimson.
And then Khushi's expression became earnest, searching once more, and Arnav braced himself.
'Can I ask you something else?' she whispered slowly, her eyes open wide in an attempt to foresee his answer. He could detect that slightest note of uncertainty in that question, the slightest amount of hesitation, and his heart twanged.
'You can ask me anything you want, Khushi,' his voice was as low as hers, injected with as much reassurance as he could rally.
Khushi closed her eyes then, and breathed deeply, as though she were steeling herself this time, not for the question, but for the answer itself. Arnav held his breath in anticipation.
'If- if that night- if that night on the terrace- I mean, if none of that had happened...well, you had said you wanted to talk to me. If nothing had gone wrong- what were you...what were you going to say?'
***
She felt herself squirming under his direct, penetrating gaze as his eyes bore straight into hers, brazenly, almost compelling her to willingly surrender to their pull, as though that was where the answer lay. But despite that twinge of discomfiture, Khushi did not look away. She needed the answer to this- she needed to fill the yawning gap which had opened into her life on a day that had begun with beauty, begun with perfection and with promise. Only when that gap was filled could Khushi count herself bold enough for mind and heart to complete the remaining distance to that door at the end of her corridor, hand in hand and completely readily.
And then he did something which she had not expected. And which she did not feel the need to resist.
He reached out for the first aid box, lifted it and placed it on his other side, simultaneously edging closer to where she sat. The next thing she knew, he had slipped his hand around hers, that warmth that she had come to subconsciously covet wiping out any surprise or astonishment or unease she might have otherwise felt. Her eyes, reluctant to even blink, voluntarily locked with his.
'Mujhe farak pardhta hai, Khushi,' he murmured unexpectedly. The tremor in his voice made a quiver, a pleasant one, ripple through her, from her hand, limp and motionless, encased in his comforting grasp, down the length of her arm and throughout her body, 'I would have told you that mujhe farak pardhta hai. You kept asking me right? You kept asking me what difference you made to me. And I always stopped short of answering. Well, I was tired of that. I wanted to tell you that yes- you do matter to me. It matters when I'm not the one making you laugh. It matters when I'm not the one you smile at. It matters when you're dancing with someone else, when someone else is touching you-'
Khushi stared at him, speechless, breathless, her dhak dhak building with the same feverish speed that his speech was taking up, his grip on her hand tightening with each passing second. She could feel a choking sob struggling to break free in her chest, as joy, nothing but consuming, overpowering joy, rose within her. This was not the first time he had spoken his heart out, not the first time he had revealed his feelings about her. But this was the first time Khushi was prepared to listen, prepared, almost desperate, to believe. Beleaguered by his eyes, she did not realise when her surroundings ceased their existence, how the world ceased its existence. How, without any clue as to how and with no attempt to comprehend it, she felt herself transported to another night a month ago, living the rest of a dream left incomplete.
'It matters Khushi, it always has-' he was no longer holding her hand now but cupping her face, leaning in even closer, so close that she suddenly found herself floating on that musky scent that she usually tried not to breathe in, for it robbed her of her remaining ability to think around him, 'It matters that you could become someone else's, it matters because I want you to be mine! Only mine, forever Khushi...It matters to me that you exist Khushi...because I can't exist if you don't'. He paused to draw a great, shuddering breath and in the ensuing silence, Khushi could hear only one other sound. Dhak dhak. Dhak dhak. 'That's what I would have said to you, Khushi...it wouldn't have been any different if it had been then, now, or later.'
And unthinkingly, unable to translate the insistent, eager clamouring of her heart, Khushi's hands raised themselves without the accompaniment of thought, and placed themselves lightly over his as they held her face.
***
Arnav's heart soared, soared to immeasurable heights, the minute his hands, cupping gently the sinuous, satin-softness of her cheeks, were enfolded by the sinuous, satin-softness of her hands. It tossed about creating such pandemonium in his chest that he could almost feel it badgering against his lungs, which would explain why breathing had become painful. The drum rolls broke out of the restraints of rhythm completely, but Arnav didn't care. He didn't care that she could possibly even hear the ruckus due to that one act of hers, performed without instigation, as she silently acknowledged his completion of a task he had set out to do so many nights before.
But that was not enough. His heart, drinking out of a veritable fountain of happiness, the intoxicating wine of his emotions concerning her, were thirsty, were greedy for more. And he could not help himself asking what he asked next.
'Khushi...if I said all of that to you...what would you have said?'
***
She felt herself start, felt her hands drop from where they were resting contentedly on his, as she stared in shock at his hungry eyes gazing longingly at her. All the bliss disappeared in an instant, leaving behind that fluster that she was familiar with, a faint semblance of the confusion that clouded her whenever he spoke to her these days, that urge once again to flee.
But no sooner had she removed her hands had she seen a flash of disappointment cross his face, chased off by the shadow of gloom, before he resumed control of his facial expressions. He smiled a small smile, meant, she knew in her heart of hearts, to reassure, but was coloured with what could only be wistfulness.
And Khushi felt her heart break for him, felt guilt grip her forcefully, making her, almost, hate herself. He repeatedly shed his defences before her, repeatedly allowed her to look into the very depths of his heart, his mind, his soul, repeatedly strove, despite her reservations, despite her misgivings, despite her distance, to make up for everything he had done wrong against her, to prove that he would never allow it to happen again. While she, unable to coordinate her heart with the rest of herself, gave him nothing worth keeping in return.
Which was why, as Arnav made to move back to his original position on the deckchair, Khushi's hand rolled into a fist and clamped itself above her heart, and her mouth formed the first words which would come to answer his question.
'Dhak dhak.'
Arnav froze. 'What?' he asked, looking somewhat puzzled.
Khushi flushed brightly, furiously red, but ploughed on regardless, 'I would have said...I mean...I don't know what I would have said...but I would have felt...well, I would have felt...you know.' She made an indefinite gesture with her hand, averting his eyes as she whispered again, 'dhak dhak.'
'Dhak dhak?'
'Yes...if you had said that...I mean after you said that I- well, that's how it feels-'
'Like your heart is trying to break out of you? Beating so hard it almost hurts?'
Khushi's startled eyes found his eager ones as he, all attempts to withdraw forgotten, waited for her answer.
'How did you...how did you know?' she managed.
Arnav chuckled. 'Let me show you,' he murmured, the renewed fire in his eyes destroying the thought of dissent before it could even take root. He took Khushi's hand and pulled her to her feet as he himself rose. And, with both hands resting on Khushi's shoulders, the warmth they emanated permeating to her skin and making her face heat up all the more, he gently pulled her towards him. Giving her the chance to resist. To pull away.
Except her heart did not want her to pull away. In fact, it began its own attempt to leap out and close the distance itself. And mind did not resist either; it stood cautiously, warily on the sidelines, alert and prepared to withdraw at any sign of trouble, but nevertheless, stationary.
And next thing she knew, she was in his arms, held close, with her head resting against his chest. Listening to his dhak dhak beating away to the same rhythm as hers.
'Because I feel the same way,' she felt him say instead of hearing, as the tremor reverberated through his body, pressed closely against her. His arms wound themselves more securely about her, trapping her closely against him, one lightly tracing its way up her back to hold her head lightly in place. Khushi felt an almost convulsive shiver race through her. But she did not resist him. She couldn't. Not anymore. Not with mind immobile and heart exulting. Not with her dhak dhak echoed and magnified against her ear. Not with the fascinating observation that her body melded in perfection with the firm, warm contours of his, as though two old broken halves were being fitted together at last. Not with the recognition of a feeling that she associated with only one thing in the past, the feeling she associated with...
...being home.
'Why does that happen?' she asked, her voice hushed, her hands awkwardly suspended by her sides, head still pressed against his heartbeat, spiralling as madly as her own.
'Because,' once again she felt his murmur resound through him, her eyes instinctively dropping shut to concentrate on it, 'I feel exactly what you feel, Khushi. When the two of us come closer...our heartbeats become one.'
And something about the way he said it, something unplaceable and unnameable, something about that night and about the magic it was steeped in, made her breath catch and broke down the last of heart's restraint, and Khushi allowed her arms to slowly wind themselves around him.
Good? Bad?- Please leave comments :)
| topics | author | replies | views | reply |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Rizz-ington | 34 | 5462 | ||
| abavi | 247 | 91266 |
comment:
p_commentcount