sorry for the late reply... i was busy and was not able to read and comment...
Part 33
Khushi extended the sheaf of papers towards him and stated, "I made some notes from information found on Shyam's telephone."
Her husband didn't even glance at the papers she held; his eyes remained focused on her. His eyes--inscrutable. His mouth--silent.
It would be accurate to say that here Khushi began to panic slightly. It was the unbearable silence. She was accustomed to Arnav Singh Raizada's renown gussa. Indeed, factoring in his temper was part of the daily negotiation of living with this man; she wouldn't know what to do without it. And, in any case, her entire practiced speech was designed to pacify his anger. He would say 'what-the' and she would reply 'it was unintentional' and he would say 'unbelievable' and she would say...
But, if he didn't follow his script, she was lost.
Ab kya bolu?
Clearly her actions had sent her husband into some sort of shock. She gave the papers a bit of a shake to prompt him.
Still nothing. Just silence.
Finally she had to ask, "have you nothing to say to me?"
Arnav tilted his head, and after a moment's thought, he said, "your hand-writing is worse than mine."
"Kya?!"
He indicated the papers with his chin. "Understandable. You were nervous. Rushed. Worried you would get caught. Concerned about my reaction."
It was Khushi in shock now.
"You are not angry?...I mean I disobeyed you...?" she asked carefully. "You clearly said, 'under no circumstances' and look what I did," she continued in a puzzled state. "You ought to be furious!" She was so taken aback by his unexpected reaction that her tongue flowed uncontrollably, counter-productive to her intentions.
He shrugged, and said in English, "you acted as you saw right. Desperate times call for desperate measures."
If Arnav Singh Raizada had said 'I love you, Khushi' she couldn't have been more shocked. At the perplexed look on Khushi's face, he explained, "I saw the notes in the locker when I came home this evening. And it fell into place. You see--I called Di earlier to ask about her doctor appointment, and Shyam answered instead. When I learnt of the phone switch," here Arnav's mouth broke into a smile, "I wondered if my disobedient wife had switched their phones on purpose."
Khushi gasped, her eyes widening with glee, "oh, I wish I had thought of that!"
Arnav closed the distance between them and pinned her against the mirror. "So you didn't orchestrate it?" he asked.
She shook her head, and boasted, "no, but I had the quick mind to act on the opportunity."
"Quick mind?" Arnav chuckled. "You simply benefitted from a coincidence!"
Khushi grinned, and said, "I was more worried about your reaction." Relishing the relief of his easy acceptance, she wrapped her arms around Arnav's neck. "I fully expected to sleep by the pool tonight."
He looked away--perhaps humbled at being reminded of his notorious behaviour. He cupped her face in his hands, and took her mouth, gently. She sighed with bliss, and parted her mouth to welcome his tongue.
But, this kiss was not to be a prelude to further pleasure. She broke it off abruptly and slipped past him. "I'm supposed to be preparing dinner," she reminded him, unlatching the door.
Before she left the room, Arnav stopped her with his voice. "Khushi?"
She looked back with a raised eyebrow, "Ji?"
"Not bad work," he said casually, indicating the notes.
She smiled, and tapped her temple to indicate her prodigious dimaag, and turned to leave.
Again, he stopped her, "Khushi?"
"Ji?"
"You did disobey me, and for that you will be severely later tonight."
It was the promise in his smirk that gave Khushi a bounce in her step as she ran downstairs to the kitchen.
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An unfamiliar bell rang from somewhere in the house. It was a sound distinct from the front doorbell. Nor did it sound like the chimes that pealed from the house-mandir. Arnav gave it but a moment of his attention, then returned to his work. A few minutes later it disturbed his quiet again. He slammed close his laptop, and strode out of the bedroom to investigate. From the upper landing, he saw his family gathered around the dinner table. He went to join them.
"Chotte, did you not hear the first bell?" his sister asked, as he slid into his chair.
He looked up at her. "Yeah, what was that? It rang twice," he asked.
"That's our new bell to signal meal times," she explained, smiling.
"What?" He frowned, and said roughly, "are we in school? Whose ridiculous idea is this?" he asked.
Khushi had just entered the dining area with a bowl of dahi, and Arnav saw her halt and hesitate at his words. She coloured and her eyes lowered to the floor. Disconcerted by her response, he then noticed that all silent eyes were on Khushi.
Shyam was the only one not made speechless.
"It was our head teacher, Khushiji's idea," he said. His words contained such bile that even those around the table unaware of Shyam's true nature, turned a questioning eye towards him. Shyam quickly repainted his words, and said, "are you all forgetting that Khushiji first came to this house as a teacher to Lavanyaji?" Shyam had grown visibly braver--and meaner--since the incident by the pool with Khushi: he could no longer pretend Khushi was his, and so there was no need to impress her with sweet words. He was a wounded animal. Desperate to wound others. He went even further. "Isn't it funny that Khushiji came to this house to teach Lavanyaji how to be a good wife to Saala-saheb--but the teacher herself replaced the student." He laughed in a good-humoured way to suggest he spoke with light-hearted fun. Nobody joined his laughter. Not even his own wife.
It may be easy to imagine what Arnav's emotions were. White hot anger rose in his chest. Anger at that man and anger at himself, for it was his careless question that exposed Khushi to Shyam's malice. He came to his feet to address Shyam's insolence, but before he could speak, he felt Khushi's hand on his forearm, urging him back into his seat. "Were you looking for the dahi, Arnavji?" she asked, her voice subdued.
Arnav sat down, knowing she possessed the cooler head and knowing that anything he said would hurt his sister most of all. He tried to make eye contact with Khushi as she filled a bowl of dahi for him, but she avoided looking at him. She filled his plate with the various dishes he enjoyed. Fetched hot rotis from the kitchen for his plate. Moved away briefly, and returned with his sugar-free kheer which she placed close by his hand. Finally, she filled his tumbler from the water jug. Her natural and seemingly inborn ability to address all his needs made him wish his thoughtless words could be unsaid. He ought to have known that the bell idea--a rather practical and expedient solution for a large household--would have come from his sensible wife.
The bell discussion continued, most likely to make him feel worse.
Anjali was saying, "I like the bell. It will save Hariprakash from running all over the house to gather us. We're always waiting for one person or the other, and as Bhabhi said, the food grows cold."
"True," Nani--Khushi's biggest fan--added. "Soon, there will be children in this house, and who will chase them down for mealtimes?" She patted Khushi's arm and stated, "the bell stays."
Once everyone was served, Khushi and Payal sat down. Before Arnav could reach for her hand under the table, he felt Khushi's hand on his thigh. He was never more grateful for her touch than in that moment; and, never more conscious of the tender heart of this woman whom he would probably never fully deserve.
--------------
With dinner complete, Khushi stood--but as she moved past Arnav, he caught her hand.
"Go change into a suit. We'll go for a ride," he said.
"Abhi?"
"Hurry."
She quickly changed and met him again downstairs by the front door. Instead of the car, he led her towards the garage. She then realized that he intended to take her out on the motorbike.
She had heard Di and Akaash speak of Arnav's love for bikes--but in all these months she had not actually seen him go out for a ride.
"Here--" he said, handing her a helmet. "Do that thing with your hair so it's all at the top of your head."
Khushi looped her hair into a careless knot. He fastened her helmet, and then fastened his. Straddling the bike, he waited for her to climb on the back. It was a larger more powerful bike than she was accustomed to, but also roomier.
As they zoomed into the flow of traffic, he warned her, "watch your duppata, Khushi." Khushi held tightly onto her husband's waist as he changed lanes. His speed was higher than she would have ordinarily been comfortable with, but she felt perfectly safe in his care. It felt free and exhilarating--like the three--man, woman and bike--were one being. At times she felt his hand cover her hands, and if happiness could arise from a simple touch then one could say Khushi was complete. It occurred to her that he had chosen the perfect way to end the day. The day had been too much about Shyam and this excursion was the perfect antidote.
Lulled by the warmth of Arnav's body and the freshness of the evening breeze, Khushi found her eyes drooping. But, just before she was in any danger of falling off the bike, Arnav pulled into a parking lot. Khushi recognized the lot as the one belonging to the cinema hall they had recently visited. He removed his helmet and made a call. She heard only part of this call as she was unfastening her helmet, but she saw him scanning the cars in the parking lot as he spoke.
"Got it," he said, ending the call.
He helped her off the bike and navigated her towards a parked vehicle. When the driver's side window rolled down, she saw the now familiar face of Mr. Chopra.
He greeted her, and she reciprocated.
Arnav handed him the notes gathered from Shyam's phone and said, "follow up first on the names I've marked with a tick."
Mr. Chopra nodded and stored the sheets away.
Arnav said, "we meet in two days--I expect results."
He took Khushi's hand and was leading her away, when Mr. Chopra said, "Mr. Raizada, it would help to have a photo of the target's wife?"
Khushi sensed a hesitation in Arnav to comply. But, he finally said, without turning back, "yeah, I'll send it to your phone tonight."
They decided to stop at the cafe within the cinema hall for a coffee. Or rather, Arnav had coffee; Khushi had kulfi. Like an old married couple, they sat side by side with their refreshments, content to be quiet and watch the world stream by.
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Arnav sent Mr. Chopra the photo as soon as they entered their room. Why he had been reluctant to provide it sooner was to himself a mystery. Perhaps it was that last vestige of the belief that he could protect his Di from all this ugliness. It was not possible; he knew it. In the very near future, Anjali would have to learn the full truth and deal with it. Even, that small hope that Shyam would reform once he knew he was to become a father--well, that was long gone. He had long ceased to believe that Shyam was an ordinary man who made a few mistakes; he now knew that Shyam was deliberately evil--to have him anywhere near Anjali or Khushi was entirely unacceptable.
He leaned back on the recliner and observed Khushi brushing out her hair. Being under the same roof with Shyam was intolerable to him--he wondered how she endured it. But, then again--Khushi was strong. He had always known it. She endured him, didn't she? He sighed, and suddenly felt weary.
As though she could read his thoughts, she turned towards him.
He rested his head on the recliner but his eyes remained on her.
She came to him, and asked, "what is it?"
He shook his head. What could he say? How does a man tell his wife that he is afraid?
Khushi moved behind the recliner and with her cool fingers, she massaged his scalp. His eyes flickered shut.
"Hmmm," he sighed, touching her hands.
"Come to bed," she urged, taking his hand. He followed her, allowing her to lead. She made him sit on the edge of the bed and slowly, but deliberately, without any bashfulness, removed all his clothing. Covering him with a blanket, she sat up against the headboard and laid his head on her lap.
She then continued to massage him--his scalp, his forehead, his temples. His last thought before he drifted into a dreamless sleep was of the utter sweetness of the hands that loved him.
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