Sunday, 24 January 2016

not cut out for love: chapter 42



"how... could... you... even... think.. you could get away from me, dammit?" asr asked khushi in a voice roughened by need, rasping for it tries to hide hurt.

the call to the guptas had been made. now he wanted to get back to doing something about that bright alive feeling he was assailed by after two nights practically of no sleep.

he had paused between the words to kiss her on her eyes, cheeks, forehead...

khushi's eyes were drowsy with the feelings rising and swallowing her as they surged.

"kiss me, don't stop..." she whispered, her eyes closed, her lips quivering, "i was so scared..."

he stopped kissing her instantly and peered at her.

"khushi?!!" asr murmurred gently, "kya baat hai? why are you crying? i am here, sweetheart... you're okay..."

(khushi? what's the matter? why are you crying?)

she was shivering slightly now, at last the tension that had held her taut ever since she had received that call from the ciao darling woman was receding... it was breaking away from where it had lain tightly knotted inside and was storming out of her being. her breath shook, her head felt woolly.

"aap ko kaise pata chala hum yahan hain? humne toh kaha tha..." khushi asked blinking at him, a helpless childlike expression settling on her face.

(How did you know i was here? i had told you...)

she could feel his chest move as he laughed under his breath, "exactly... kissi aur se pyaar karti ho tum... of course, that's not possible... so it had to mean you were in some sort of trouble and pagal that you are..." he sounded matter of fact.

(exactly... you love someone else...)

"kya? kya?" khushi cut in, focusing suddenly, "why why? why is it not possible for me to love anyone else... why? aap apne aap ko samajhte kya hain?" she struggled to leave his arms and move away.

(who do you think you are?)

he held on nonchalantly and drawled looking down at her face through half closed eyes, "tumhara laad governor hoon... aur kisse pyaar kar sakti ho tum? tell me..." she made a move, he held her tighter.

(i am your lord governor, who else can you love? tell me...)

"actually don't tell me, just let me do what you said i must..." he pulled her up so he could resume kissing her again as they lay there on the sofa at her home in gomti sadan.

his lips were warm and playful, his tongue made its way deliberately into her mouth and caressed, cajoled, teased.

"what me... must... kya?" khushi was blushing and feeling flushed at the same time, her heart pounded loudly and suddenly she was overwhelmed with shyness... so, of course, she had to be brash, "kya kaha humne?" she asked still straining away. her voice was low and guttural, she wished she could sound off hand and unaffected. this man!

(what did i say?)

"kiss me... don't stop!" he repeated her words and a slow smile began to slant his lips.

khushi shrieked almost, heat rising up her ears, in utter embarrassment...

the night was dark and silent, khushi knew if you looked up at the sky now the stars would be countless and she'd see the bright one that was her mother and the one next to it that was babu ji... laad governor's mother and father would be there too she was sure.

she closed her eyes finally and reached up to place her lips back against his, she wanted his kisses to say things to her that she sometimes understood and most times was too overwhelmed by to decipher, her mind not quite functioning.

she had never had much time for the giddy romance novels preeto and her friends read, she was sure they exaggerated and said silly things. beside, she hadn't really planned to fall in love, she had in fact thought she would not marry at all... yeah, babu ji would really have to get her married to that lizard she had brought for him from bali...

khushi chuckled. laad governor would throttle the lizard she was sure... no, he'd just glare at it balefully till it meekly scampered away from the wedding mandap.

yes, khushi was feeling definitely lightheaded. was it the tension though or was it the attention of the man whose hands held her like they'd never let her go, one didn't know.

khushi kissed him breathlessly, she started opening the buttons of his shirt as she liked to and put her palm against his heart, the hair on his chest was bristly, she could feel the puckered skin of his nipple... she moaned lightly as she broke off the kiss only to bury her face against his chest. she kissed him on his bare skin and moved up tenderly caressing all the way up the long column of his neck, right up to under his chin... she could feel the graze of his stubble on her tender lips.

she sighed. he had exhaled quickly and his breath fanned her skin... "khushi," his voice soft, almost inaudible.

khushi reached up and held his face with her hands on either side. she felt safe.

then a thought struck her.

"nahiiin!" she drew away with a jerk.

"i can't do this..." she pushed him off and was standing up before he could react.

"khushi! what's the matter...?? come back right here!" he growled and without giving her a chance to say anything more, he caught her wrist in a punishing grip and pulled her hard. she stumbled and fell back against him, landing on his lap mostly, her feet going up at a crazy angle, her hair tumbling out of its loosely tied parandi, her pompoms swinging wildly.

"no! no!... arnav ji... i can't..." she said "she said they'd... no... if anything happens to you... nahiin nahiin..." she was babbling and flailing her arms, struggling to regain balance... leave him.

"shut up, khushi!" asr glared at her.

she hit out.

"i said, stop it!" his teeth were clenched, his voice whip like.

"don't you trust me dammit? do you think two stupid con artists can do as they please... and i... arnav singh raizada, will just sit around and let them get away with it?" he sounded so furious, khushi paused.

asr was looking at her with extreme anger now, his brow tightly knitted, jaw set in a hard line.

but khushi loved him... she couldn't not fear, not worry...

she reached out and stroked his cheek unable to stop herself, a lone tear slid down from her eye... if anything should happen to arnav ji.

he sat quietly looking at her with that dark pulsating gaze. he was wearing the clothes he had been wearing since the morning, his usual three piece suit with the jacket neatly buttoned down, a white shirt, he had taken off the tie in the plane, restless and feeling helpless. the clothes had started to look a little tired and creased in places, and yet he looked devastatingly handsome, the brown gaberdine of his jacket accentuated his irises and made his skin look earthier still. khushi could see his face looked drawn... 

he lifted his hands languidly and fastened the button khushi had undone. with a grim look he got up and turned to her. she stared up at him, wondering what he was doing.

"come!" he said in his peremptory way, she started, goosebumps riding her shoulders. she always felt a funny thrill when he said that word in that particular way of his.

khushi followed him without asking where they were headed.


***


garima lay in bed, eyes wide open, fretting. it was past one in the morning but sleep eluded her completely. the entire day had practically gone worrying about khushi, now damad ji had called and said she was fine, she was at gomti sadan. garima sighed, her heart had not yet settled completely after all the terrible thoughts that had coursed through her through out the day. was her daughter safe? where was she? had something happened to her? was she hurt? was she kidnapped? was she... alive? garima had gone around a set of worries endlessly again and again, her mind unable to tell her which fear was to be heeded which discarded.

now she knew khushi was alright, but...

why had she gone away like that without telling anybody? khushi bitiya was always careful about not making shashi ji and herself worry. she would never go anywhere without telling them... garima would scold her at times and say khushi was becoming too independent, not even twenty, she thought she could do what she pleased... but garima knew in her heart that her younger daughter might seem flighty at times but she was extremely responsible and she also loved with all her heart, giving all she had.

which is why she would never make her amma and babu ji worry... or her bua ji and jiji... she would do anything for those she loved in fact. so why did she just go away...

unless... unless...

garima sat up with a start.

"kya hua, garima ji...?" shashi gupta asked woken up by the sudden movement beside him.

(what's the matter, garima ji?)

"nahin," garima demurred, her breathing was slightly erratic, she'd had the most terrible thought. hey devi maiyya, let it not be true... but was damad ji in some sort of danger? was khushi bitiya behaving so uncharacteristically because of that?

the thought bothered garima badly. it made no sense she knew... even if damad ji was in danger why would her daughter suddenly vanish to lucknow without telling anyone. unless someone had threatened her and forced her to...

garima almost stopped breathing.

no... she told herself to not imagine things. just because you're her amma doesn't mean you can sense everything, know everything, garima admonished herself.

a little voice in her whispered, you do know. you are her amma.

garima determinedly pulled the covers over herself and lay down, she reached out and caught shashi ji's hand in a tight grip and closed her eyes.

arnav bitwa was with bitiya, he would take care of her. khushi would be fine. fine.

her husband's hand pressed hers slightly. she heard him say in his even tone, "don't worry, damad ji will make sure our bitiya is alright and anyway... tomorrow you are going to get her married, aren't you... hamri dono bitiya ghar chhorke apne ghar jaayengi..."

(both our daughters will leave home and go to their own home...)

he sounded forlorn. this whole custom of sending daughters away after marriage had always bothered shashi gupta. it made no sense really... and yet, that was how it had to be.

garima turned and drew his hand to her cheek, her eyelids getting heavier.


***


khushi sat without speaking next to him as asr drove down silent empty dark roads.

where were they going?

khushi stole a sideways glance at her husband to be.

the moment the thought registered, she blushed and looked quickly away, peering at the blackness...

when the lights came into view suddenly, she was taken aback at first.

then her mouth opened and her lips formed a perfect "o", her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her hands.

it was sheesh mahal.

why had arnav ji brought her to this hotel in the middle of the night? what did he want to do?

was he going to shout at her again for dashing into him and spoiling his clothes? was he going to make her pay for his ruined show? was all this really a bleak dark joke? he didn't love her... they were not getting married... he had done all this only to take revenge!!!

hey devi maiyya, raksha karna, khushi thought.

"no, she can't save you now, khushi kumari gupta!" asr said with a deadpan look; khushi had, as she often did when highly stressed, spoken aloud her thoughts.

"you better get ready to suffer... for the rest of your life," he threw in casually but there was a threat in his voice.

what.

no, not what, khushi thought, what the.

"suffer? what do you mean? why... why should i suffer? hum aapse dartey nahin hain, samjhe aap?!!" khushi retorted, her voice shaking despite her holding tight the edge of the car seat for support... how come the seat had cloth upholstery though?

(i'm not scared of you...)

"oh really?!" he turned to her and gave a sardonic smile, stopping the suv right in front of the imposing structure.

"then why are you gripping my arm so tight, khushi?" asr cocked an eyebrow, tilted his head slightly and looked at her amused.

khushi gulped, yelped and let go of his arm... then she snapped open her seat belt quickly and jumped out of the car.

but he had reached her side of the door before she could step out and bolt.

"not so fast, khushi kumari gupta!" he caught hold of her wrist and started pulling her after him up the steps of the hotel. the liveried durwan with the huge curled moustache held open the door with a beaming smile.

"sir, good evening, sir!" the man said to asr who gave him a curt barely there nod and walked in, still dragging his bride to be.

a little smile flitted across his face as he thought that. but khushi was behind him, all she saw was his rigid back and relentless steps. where were they going?

"right here..." he stopped suddenly and said. khushi looked around dazedly. here? in the middle of the foyer? what did he want to do with her?

and then she remembered... dark furious eyes were boring into her, she was staring at a crunchy orange jalebi crushed against a black silk shirt, the syrup had squirted all over, sticky shiny syrup, her eyes were transfixed between the bright jalebi and the brown gaze... something hot was falling on her face at regular intervals.

it was this stranger's angry fiery breath.

khushi jumped back.

"exactly, khushi... yaad aaya?" asr said in a soft sibilant whisper, "do you remember? what you did?"

"haan toh!" khushi tried to draw herself up and face the adversary, he had been playing with her all this while, had he!

(and so!)

"i can pay you, d'you understand?" she adopted as peremptory a note as she could, like cures like after all, "i can even buy you a new silk shirt with my money... i have got my own salary you know... i earn a lakh of rupees every month!"

"pay me for the shirt?" he looked at her incredulously, "but what about the real damage you did? what about driving me crazy?" he jerked her forward and she fell, right against him, her hand came up to break her fall and slammed on his chest as it had the first time she had set eyes on him. her eyes grew huge, oh no...

she looked up hastily and sure enough he was staring at her.

then her knees almost gave way and she would have fallen if his arms hadn't been holding her at the waist.

his eyes were clear translucent brown, the light from a candle on the reception counter was reflecting off his irises, adding an incandescent richness to them. chocolate, earth, almonds, jaggery, the tangy water in which you dipped golgappa... all things brown and wonderful flitted through khushi's mind.

for the eyes were not angry... they sparkled, they shone, they were laughing and... khushi swallowed hard, they were flirting.

"do you know, from that moment on... when you barged into me, almost killed me with a plate full of jalebis... i have not been able to think of anything but you... i couldn't concentrate on my work, i couldn't get through a normal day, i couldn't, hell... think, imagine, make, create, plan the most important show of the year... nothing... all i could see before me... were..." he paused.

khushi was gaping at him, entranced.

"jalebis?" she whispered helpfully.

"no, khushi, i am a diabetic... i don't eat sweets... what's more, unlike some people i know, i don't fantasize about food...," he laughed, a flash of white teeth sent khushi's heartbeat racing again... as though the dhakdhak set off by the brown eyes weren't enough... now the white teeth were doing their thing.

"your eyes, you pagal ladki..." he said gently... an uncharacteristic unusual rare precious gentleness.

khushi's knees buckled again.

"i could only see them, think of them, and want them... want you... not a moment's peace till i found you... well, till aman found you... and i heard your voice on the phone... by the way, it's not haylow, it's hello!" he grinned and pecked her on her cheek.

"haylow!" khushi gurgled trying to sound cool.

"yes, of course... drove me mad, you did. so now... you must pay!" he started to draw her closer, bending his head, ready to extract payment.

khushi wriggled free and exclaimed, "ramanchi!"

asr's face scrunched up, a puzzled look on his face, "aman ji? you want aman here now? the poor chap is fast asleep in delhi and why..."

"aman ji nahiiin ramanchi... cheating... arnav ji.. cheating... aap cheating kar rahe hain!" khushi accused as she explained.

(not aman ji, ramanchi... cheating, atrnav ji... cheating... you are cheating!)

"khushi! come here," asr ordered, he really needed to hold her now. he had been beside himself with worry... what if something had happened to her... what if he hadn't got there in time... what if they harmed her... he had run with all his might that night in sheesh mahal... but too late, he had been not fast enough, not good enough... it was too late to save maa. she had already shot herself...

asr's eyes closed as memory dashed against him and halted him for a moment.

how dare that woman threaten khushi... she would pay, he would not let her get away with this.

"aapne jo humey pagal banaya, usska kya? usska? kahiye, mr arnav singh raizada!" khushi charged still standing away... "jabse aap miley, hum aapke baare mein sochna band hi nahin kar paaye, aap itne burey jo hain... pata hai, woh lal aankh wala safed kabootar..." khushi looked at asr with huge eyes brimming with complaint.

(you made me go crazy too, what about that? that? say, mr arnav singh raizada! from the time i've met you, i couldn't stop thinking about you... you're so terrible... do you know, that white pigeon with red eyes?)

"i thought that kabootar was you..." asr's eyes narrowed as she said this. a pigeon?

"and also you came to my dreams... you were a coolie!" khushi whined.

"a pigeon... a coolie... and... a frangipani chudail," asr burst out laughing... now his whole face was lit, his eyes danced, his entire set of front teeth were visible and dazzling white and khushi's dhakdhak reached such a crescendo, she had to clutch her heart...

"what's the matter, khushi? tum theek ho?" he was again at her side in no time.

(are you alright?)

then he just caught her in his arms and kissed her deeply on the mouth standing right there in the middle of the foyer of sheesh mahal.

khushi felt herself melt and begin to kiss him back.

after a while she murmured in protest, "how can you do this here, everyone can see us!"

asr just picked her up in his arms in response and said matter of factly, "let them!"

he began striding with her up the stairs on one side of the reception desk... grand wide shallow steps went all the way up in a curve, he kept going up the steps till he reached the floor he wanted, then he turned left and walked out of a covered hallway onto an open terrace. he set her down there and said, "this was my favourite spot in the house, right here."

khushi looked around at the square shaped terrace lined with potted plants. where would arnav ji play she wondered or maybe he didn't play, he just sat there planning how to get after people. khushi grinned.

asr saw her smiling, instinctively he reached out and touched her lips... her smile. 

"so you will pay for the damage you did for the rest of your life?" he asked huskily.

"yes, laad governor... but only if you'll pay too," khushi looked demure and peeped up at him coyly.

"yeah right... and which fool is paying you a lakh of rupees a month?" he replied.

she laughed and stood there looking around. night brought its mystery to this corner of the old haveli... moonlight gleamed on curved balustrades and the flowering trees and topiaries in the garden below. a warm floral scent soaked the air. something waited. khushi recalled a moonlit night in bali when she had been sitting under a tree talking to her stars and he had come by...

he walked up to her now, his steps slightly menacing, a catlike grace in his movements, and slid his arms around her from the back. khushi rested against his wide firm chest and tilted her head... as she looked up, her breath practically stopped.

up there in the inky dark sky twinkled millions of stars. khushi gazed rapt. it was perhaps three in the morning, yet she felt wide awake. the man holding her was pulling her closer, his lips nuzzled her neck, he bit her lightly and she shivered arching, giving him access...

"remember, khushi, never ever leave me like that again... never..." he said against her ear, his lips were wrecking her concentration as they moved over her ear lobe and yet she heard the seriousness in his voice, the need... the love.

she caught his right hand and brought it up to her lips and kissed his palm, his fingers, then she guided it to where her heart beat and kept it there.


***

she woke up before him. he was still sleeping on the sofa outside.

she ran and brushed her teeth, splashed water on her face, combed her hair and wore a blue churidar kurta with silver gota and tiny red pompoms. she checked her reflection in the mirror on the cupboard and decided she looked quite pretty... she chose a tiny red bindi and a couple of blue glass bangles as accessories, then she pulled out her favourite silver mojris and slipped them on.

rushing around the way she always did, she hooked on small jhumkas with red meena work. it delighted her to see that her ruby ring matched her red jhumkas. this she ascertained by holding her ring finger by her ears and peering intently at the mirror.

when she was satisfied with the way she looked, she went to the kitchen to make some coffee for laad governor.

he had not slept the night before he had told her, and last night by the time they got back and slept it must have been four a.m. she hoped he had slept well on the small sofa... she had offered to let him use her bed, but he had refused... actually he had fallen asleep half way through their argument.

khushi took out the bottle of instant coffee they kept at home. arnav ji liked his espresso coffee, khushi frowned, would he like this? she was looking out of the window still frowning when the red eye kabootar flew up to the window sill and perched.

"aa gaye, janaab? adaab adaab," khushi grinned and spoke calmly to the bird.

(you're here, sir?... greetings greetings!)

"now i shall make some nice hot coffee," khushi said in all seriousness to her feathered companion, "then i will take it to arnav ji and wake him up, then he will drink the coffee, say it is terrible, what the what what the, then he'll shout at me, isn't this world wonderful?! and if you think i am mad for saying that... let me tell you, my red eyed friend, you are right... hum pagal hi toh hain... nahin toh itna khush hotey kya yeh sochke ki aaj shyam hamari shadi ho rahi hai ek khadoos rakshas jwalamukhi magarmach laad governor se? after this evening, my whole life will change and i will be in trouble for the rest of my days... i am so fortunate, hey devi maiyya, you are the best... kabootar ji, i will miss you, why don't you come with us to delhi? wahan shayad aapke liye koi achhi si ladki mil jaaye?"

(
and if you think i am mad for saying that... let me tell you, my red eyed friend, you are right... i am mad of course... otherwise would i be so happy thinking this evening i am to be married to a mean monster volcano crocodile lord governor? after this evening, my whole life will change and i will be in trouble for the rest of my days... i am so fortunate, hey devi maiyya, you are the best... kabootar ji, i will miss you, why don't you come with us to delhi? maybe we'll get  a good girl for you there?)

"shut up, khushi!" her soon to be husband hollered from the sofa, "stop talking to that bird and make me some coffee!"





 index 






Tuesday, 1 December 2015

without you: chapter 36




"let's frighten the dragons," i said to pooh.
"that's right," said pooh to me.
"i'm not afraid," i said to pooh,
and i held his paw and i shouted "shoo!

silly old dragons!" ... and off they flew.
"i wasn't afraid," said pooh, said he,
"i'm never afraid with you."


~~~ a a milne ~~~


his profile looked set, chiseled. yet something moved and glittered in the dim light. the faint rays of the early morning sun, still struggling to cast off the slumber of a long cold night, reflected off smoky brown irises rimmed with dark chocolate and tried to drive out the darkness they glimpsed there. asr stood by the long window in the bedroom, looking out, thoughts rushing through his mind, jumbled up, nothing clear and crisp, yet a host of murmuring, pervasive sounds and images. what had woken him up? it was a little past five when his eyes had opened suddenly, he'd sat up startled. where was he? where was maa? and di? and pita ji wasn't back home yet? he'd turned to call out to rahim chacha, or maa, or was it di? he wasn't sure, his mind still wafting, fuzzy... and he'd had seen her lying by his side, deep in sleep. 

khushi!

why was she here? who was she? 

sleep and wisps of a dream now disappearing fast into the nooks and crannies of his subconscious mind, kept him in their grasp a while longer, as he stared dazed at her by his side, lying supine inches away from him, eyes closed, breathing easy, deep in innocent sleep. a powerful desire to touch her, to bury his face against her came upon him... she was his, part of him, something whispered... who was she, which part of him, his thoughts drifted... but she was meant to be here, nowhere else. he reached out to stroke her bare arm even as consciousness took firm hold of the moment.

khushi. 

his lips almost involuntarily began to curve... it was her. of course, it was. what was he thinking? no dreaming? had he really wondered which part of him she was? he wanted to lean over and quickly drag her into his arms and keep her there, warm against him... but she was sleeping like a child. he would not disturb her. he allowed himself a soft stroke along her lissome, fluid arm. the gentlest purest flesh, taut unblemished skin, innocence unfazed. his life, his love, his light. he bent and kissed her on her upper arm, breathing in her fresh clean scent. the most tender look flitted across his eyes and then returned to stay as he sat looking at her. 

you wash away my sins, my darkness, d'you know, khushi? his heart called out. he wondered if she heard.

then he shook his head... what was he doing? he smiled a little again, this crazy pagal girl, the things she made him believe in. made him do.

he watched the sweet curve of her cheek, her lips relaxed and pouting just a bit as she slept, her hand lay on the bed as though reaching across to him, fingers slightly curled. when suddenly she moved and swung a deft punch with the same hand, he started. her left leg moved with alacrity and kicked him in the shin.

"ow!" he yelped under his death and grimaced but he was already laughing.

his taekwondo queen was in peaceful sleep clearly. it was only when she was absolutely at home somewhere that her frolic while asleep started. his belgravia flat had become her place too, he grinned, his teeth a wicked flash in the half light, and moved quickly out of the way of her next lethal jab and got up. his thoughts were already moving back to sheesh mahal as he walked over to the window.

not everything can be found a word or even a clearly demarcated feeling for. some places carry bleakness in their entrails, in their bones, in the hollows of their innards. a grimy licentiousness permeates the air and a sense of suffocation alongside. no matter how resplendent the visage, the rot in the gut is all you remember, it gets stored in you, in places where no one ever told you memory lingers. asr shivered slightly. the sheer vileness of his home, where behind all the custom and ritual and the vanities of a wealthy well known family going back many generations, only unholiness and a treacherous darkness dwelled. there was no room for innocence here. or love. how could maa survive, how could anything lovely blossom in a place where sunshine rarely came...

his eyes moved over the large plane trees that filled belgrave square, their leaves were subdued, shedding, preparing for the long winter ahead... but then there would be spring. and green again, new leaves, light, soft, bursting forth. why was there no spring in sheesh mahal.

how it had returned again with a harsh blast of pitiless cold, frost that bit you, left you bleeding. he could still here his uncle's reedy sinuous voice, trembling with pleasure telling him exactly how he had planned and killed, no slaughtered, maa. sheesh mahal had turned another devilish trick. maa had not killed herself... what he and everyone else had believed ever since that night, even that was a lie. nothing was ever as it seemed, nothing was ever transparent, nothing was simple, innocent. his lips were drawn in a grim line. she had been killed... he almost stopped breathing as the thought hit him as if for the very first time. his eyes shut tight. and behind his lids he could see his mother's radiant smile, then curiously a lady was running down the corridor... she was in a lovely pale pink. khushi's mother! no, she had not been spared either. he wanted to run and catch his mother in his arms and tell her he'd keep her safe. don't worry, maa... i am here. he didn't want the lady in pink to die. maa, i am here!

his eyes opened in a flash. he caught himself up short. he must not get lost in these feelings... he must not. this world, this realty... it had to be faced. it had to be endured. it had to be conquered. you could never let up, never escape. he didn't even wish to escape. long years of dealing with all that was around him had made him learn to enjoy the exchange, get quite comfortable with whatever it was that came his way. oh the thrill of triumph when he did overcome. 

the one thing that had got him good and proper though, was that fey girl lying there, practicing her warrior moves. he turned to look at her. his gorgeous insane wife. who would think of pouring mango juice into a crotchety nasty man's shoes just to punish him... or hide in, of all place, a cupboard! hadn't anyone told her, it was dangerous to do so?

why are you so lovely, so innocent, khushi? how will i protect you from this heartless, crushing world?

yet that was what he wanted to do, always.

he turned back to look out of the window again. now the sun was a little higher, the trees swayed in a light breeze, the whitewashed low rise majestic buildings built a couple of hundred years ago looked elegant and bright, a calm serene ambiance. yet somewhere in the distance he could hear an ambulance wail... or was it a fire engine? sirens. coming closer. where had trouble come, was it in one of these stately mansions before him? perhaps there was something rotten behind a beautiful facade here too... 

why could he not shake off the feeling of unease, he wondered, turning to walk back to bed.

he lay down beside khushi and tried to draw her near. she yelled, "badmash, kaminey, chhorde mujhe!"

(rascal, b..., leave me!)

then she reached out and caught his hair in a punishing grip. he moved to get into a position where her hair pulling hurt a little less, covering her hand with his. she was obviously in her hindi film dream... maybe salman khan was her hero and she being saved by him, no one else was good enough really... he found himself grinning again.

"arnav ji aayengey toh pitoge aise... bhago agar bachna chahte ho, samjhe tum!" khushi yelled to the imaginary assailant, and for good measure, she gave his hair a vicious yank. 

(when arnav ji comes you'll get so thrashed... run if you want to live, understand?!)

asr could feel tears stinging the back of his eyes, and at the same time a strange contentment settling in. so arnav ji is coming to rescue you, is it? he thought to himself, burying his face in her hair.

"main aa gaya, khushi... kahin nahin jaaonga, okay!" he whispered against her silken tresses and drifted off to sleep.

(i am here, khushi... not going anywhere, okay!)


***


the boy sat at his designated place with a glum expression, a dark frown creasing his forehead. he was completely oblivious to the excitement in the air. di was wearing a saree with gold embroidery, he wondered what the fuss was and why she had to be dolled up like that when it was a holiday and they could have gone out to play, maybe gone shooting with pita ji, or something interesting.

everybody was smiling too much and rushing about doing things. maa was again sitting for hours in the temple, dadi had joined her there as well. but soon he knew they would both emerge with huge platters of flowers and offerings, then di would join them with her silver platter arranged with all sorts of things and attack him with a tika on the forehead and tie that funny sponge flower and tinsel decorated rakhi on his wrist. 

arnav singh raizada hated rakshabandhan. at eleven, he did not wish to be seen with a girlish bracelet and that bright red thing on his forehead. he hated it the most when his dadi instructed him to say all sorts of ridiculous things to his sister about protecting her and being there for her forever. and she also mixed things in the tika to make it stay longer, it was impossible to wash it off.

didn't these people understand, he loved di and would do whatever it took to make sure she is fine, unharmed. in school, even though he was years junior, everyone knew how ferocious anjali's brother was when it came to her safety and well being. he had walloped a class eleven boy just the other day for making a snide remark about di's limp when she came to pick him up from school, di had just joined college. he couldn't care less the boy was twice his size and a champion athlete, he had beaten him to a pulp anyway. 

but to wear all this and say silly things. arnav scowled as di came smiling with her thaal and stood before him. reluctantly, he held out his arm. di chose a rakhi carefully, and leaned to tie it. arnav was surprised. the usual pink or red or blue sponge flower and tinsel were missing, instead it was a discreet red string, platted with a touch of yellow that just went around his wrist and did not look offensive at all. he looked at di, startled, she winked at him.

"pasand nahin woh sab phool shool, hai na, chhotey? i made this specially for you... and don't worry, dadi wasn't looking when i changed the tika powder, this one will wash off easily... but promise me, you won't fight with those huge senior class boys any more, okay?" she whispered.

(you don't like all those flowers and things, isn't it, chhotey?)

he smiled slightly and said, "maroonga... aap ko agar koi bhi kuch kahe ya kare, main nahin chhorunga..."

(i will beat them... anyone says or does anything to you, i am not sparing them...)

anjali shook her head and touched his cheek gently. 


***

asr looked at his watch bleary eyed. it was almost 10.30 in the morning, he had slept through his eight o'clock alarm. he remembered he'd woken up earlier and not been able to sleep for quite some time. he was feeling tired even now. he turned and saw he was alone in the room.

where was khushi, he wondered. had she gone out? he was about to get up when he heard her voice.

"see, aunty mary, the onion, na? you must fry it very nicely, till it is absolutely brown, otherwise the chicken curry won't get the right taste..." khushi was obviously talking to mrs higgs... was she teaching her how to make chicken curry? he smiled wryly... soon mrs higgs would also possibly get instructions on how to make the world's best jalebi.

"okay, will you taste the gravy a little and see how it is?" khushi asked.

he heard mrs higgs mumble something.

"no, no, i don't really like chicken, so i won't try it... i only make it for arnav ji because he enjoys all this so much..." khushi said.

again he could hear mrs higgs' voice.

"arrey... nothing like that, aunty mary! arnav ji does so much for me, this little bit of course i can do, no?" khushi sounded happy.

asr began to get up from bed...

"aap uth gaye?!" khushi said brightly as she walked into the room just then. asr was sitting at the edge of the bed, eyes still very sleepy, a lock of hair fell over his forehead, he was about to stretch in an effort to fight off the ennui.

(you're up?)

khushi's heart almost stopped beating when she saw him sitting like that, the air of vulnerability about him, and that hair... she walked across without thinking and ran her fingers over his hair, then pushed the lock back.

the tenderness of her touch didn't go unnoticed by her husband. he looked at her and cocked an eyebrow. she felt her heartbeat pick up pace, why did arnav ji have to... before she could complete her protest in her head, he'd pulled her down on top of him and they were both sprawled across the bed.

"arnav ji!" khushi squealed.

"yes, khushi? you were saying...?" he slung his arms across her hips looking up at her innocently.

"nahin... woh..." khushi began to mumble, she could feel the contours of his body flush against her, and even though she couldn't see it, she knew he was playing with her plait, running his finger over the bunch of pompoms on her paramdi, his eyes looked drowsy and a knowing smile played on his lips. she wished she could stop all thinking and just start kissing him right then.

(no... that...)

but she was not going to let him know what he was doing to her, so with an arch little look she said, "nahin, i was just thinking you need a hair cut... you hair's grown too long... woh dan ji must be having a partner or something here..."

"what the!" he burst out, "so you don't like my hair, is that what you're saying?!"

"nahin... woh.. main.." khushi wished she hadn't said what she had, he seemed hurt.

(no... that... i...)

she was looking almost woebegone, when she felt him shaking under her... her eyes flew to his face and to her chagrin, she found arnav ji guffawing, laughing uncontrollably. 

"khushi! i was just pulling your leg..." he said and when she started struggling to get away from him, he held her tighter, "come, run your fingers through my hair, now..." he half commanded half cajoled her, his voice growing thicker.

khushi wanted to tell him to get up and wash his face. she wanted to say, mrs higgs was just outside and could hear them. she thought she'd say, she had to rush back to the kitchen because the daal was on the stove. there were so many things she thought she'd say. but there was something in his voice she couldn't deny. how he touched her with his open, unguarded, absolute love, his need, and yes, his desire. she liked being desired by him, she realised as she reached up and let her fingers play with his hair. he looked up at her, smiling, then raised his head and kissed her on her chin, before proceeding to her lips.

before long, he was taking off her clothes, that familiar drugged feeling began to overtake her as his pleasantly rough fingers roamed over her, arousing, intoxicating... she hoped aunty mary had taken the daal off the fire as she felt his lips begin to nibble her breast and his hand caress her navel.

then he was lifting her up in his arms and carrying her... and soon she was lying next to him in the bathtub and warm water was cascading all over them. she had never been in a tub with him before but it felt so good, she forgot all her inhibitions and stretched her body enjoying the water lapping gently against her while he kissed her, slipping his tongue inside her mouth and making her go slightly dizzy wanting him. time ticked by slowly as he held her close and made unhurried languorous love to her.

by the time khushi got ready and emerged from the bedroom, mrs higgs had left, she had also turned off the fire and the daal was still fine, though half cooked. khushi was standing looking at it and smiling to herself when she felt asr's his arms around as he held her from behind.

"khushi," he sounded serious, "i know you worry about me, especially since," he turned her around, "that accident... but really, there's no need to go so much out of your way for me... i know you don't eat non-vegetarian food, so..."

"aap shut up, samjhe!" khushi snapped, "i will do what i want to do and you will get a hair cut, bas!"

arnav singh raizada looked at his wife and wondered again how he would protect that unfettered innocence from the harshness of this world.


***


he sat on the deckchair at the poolside, a naked wild anger coursing through him. he hated her. behind that innocent, sweet face was the mind of a filthy vile woman. a woman out to ruin his sister's life. she was having an affair with his brother in law. she was sleeping with shyam. as he articulated the thought, he felt a sharp pain stab his gut, the breath was knocked out of his body at the vehemence of his feeling. 

he got up and stood tense, fists cinched, breath ragged.

but he had not let her win. he had stopped her. he had married her because he hated her. hated her.

"i hate you, dammit!" he said under his breath. the rage spiralled in him, uncontrolled.

the water in the pool lapped the sides gently.


***

it was their last day in london. 

as he left for the office, he'd asked her what she wanted to do today.

she was washing up after lunch, happy he had liked the chicken curry, and she'd said with a cheery smile, "bus, arnav ji... we will go for a long bus ride!" her eyes twinkled as she said it.

"nooo! not again!" he had protested.

instantly, she had struck a sad look with a huge pout and fluttering her lashes, said meekly, "theek hai, arnav ji..." knowing exactly what that would do to his resistance.

(alright, arnav ji)

of course, they would go for the bus ride, he grinned to himself as he drove toward canary wharf. a quiet happiness seized him, even now it was a feeling he was not utterly familiar with. he decided he'd go across to selfridges on the way home and pick up a pair of earrings for her from van cleef and arpels, he'd seen them the day they had gone shopping for the family. he would also get her a bag and a pair of shoes, and a dress. and for di, he wanted to get a set of bangles from tiffany's, khushi had seen them in a magazine and pointed them out to him, thin diamond encrusted bangles in different shades of gold, yeah, di would like that. he missed her, hopefully she was alright... 

his phone rang.

khushi?

he looked at the phone, it was an unfamiliar number.

"yes!" he said peremptorily as he answered.

"arnav?" it was a man's voice, heavy... doctor verma.

"yes, doc?" asr was immediately alert, "what's the matter? all okay? di...?"

"nothing to worry about, arnav," doctor verma replied but there was something in his voice asr could sense, "i... just wanted to have a word with you... about something..." doctor verma was clearly measuring his words carefully, asr grew restless "okay, when anjali had her... miscarriage, which hospital was she taken to?"

asr was nonplussed... why was di's miscarriage being brought up suddenly? he hoped doctor verma had not upset di with these questions... asr was about to tick vijay verma off when he heard him say,

"i didn't want to talk to anjali about all this... not yet... but it is important for me to know the name of the hospital... arnav, i have heard something and it is important..."

"holy family, doctor verma... we took di there!" asr said curtly, interrupting.

there was a silence of a few seconds at the other end.

then doctor verma said in a quiet, serious voice, "arnav, there's a rumour going around in the hospital... yes, there are always all sorts of rumours... that a nurse who has joined recently from... holy family... has been talking about a baby she saved and smuggled out of the hospital even though the child's own father wanted her dead..."

asr went stone still as doctor verma spoke. 

"i don't say, arnav, that this is... but i would like to investigate a bit more, now that i know anjali was at holy family... aranv, i don't mean to play with anyone's feelings..."

"doc, i'll come and see you day after tomorrow... and i would like to meet the nurse," asr said in a tone that brooked no opposition.

.......................




wrote this chapter sitting in london, imagining all sorts of things going on between asr and khushi everywhere i went. today it was spitalsfield market... would he take her to do trendy but grungy shopping there? maybe not. but there was this statue of a talking goat... i could see her standing there for hours making him key in text messages, scan qr codes, etc., so she could hear what the goat said... many times over... she would possibly tell him she was missing lakshmi ji and he would just let her have her way because he can't bear the thought of her being sad or just because he adores her wackiness, her true pagalpan... but really if we thought lakshmi ji was a bit off the wall as a pet, imagine a talking goat statue, maybe the creator is an ipk fan. i hope you like the chapter. do please leave your comments and check later as i do always reply. appreciate your reading without you, take care and see you anon.







Tuesday, 17 November 2015

without you: chapter 35




her wrist felt tiny in his grip. and for a fraction of a moment he had the overpowering urge to stop right there, turn around and pull her into his arms. to hold her against him and feel her yield, adhere. to bury his face in her hair, to softly stroke her skin, to tuck back that always errant curl on her forehead, to brush his lips tenderly on her forehead and say, "shh... shh... don't worry, i am here. won't let anyone hurt you."

so small and fragile that wrist of hers. but he dragged her along anyway up the temple steps. because there was no choice. he had to act. he had to stop mayhem from entering di's life. he had to stop the darkness from deafening him. he had to stop the voice of a girl shouting and telling his di's husband to leave di. and he had to stop the feeling in his chest.

what was breaking in there? what could it be?

nahin hai dil asr ke seene mein. he swallowed hard, no, he had no heart... no heart ever since... everyone knew that. he knew that. she knew that. so what could be breaking and bleeding in his chest.

he had no choice, he had to stop that too. there was no one. no one to turn to. he didn't need anyone... never. he was arnav singh raizada... he would take care of things.

he clutched her wrist even tighter, almost cutting off the blood flow in her veins and arteries, the insistent thrumming pulse beating against her translucent skin, where he knew her veins showed blue green and he wanted to kiss her there slowly for long as he made love to her night after night after night.

yet he hated her tonight.

they had reached the platform where the deity sat, resplendent in silks and gold, a perfectly proportioned face, kindness in her eyes, a gentle smile on her lips that never faded, an air of benevolence. he didn't bother to look its way as he hurled the girl with the small fragile wrist before him. an idol made of mud, that was all, mere mud... it had no heart. no conscience. it could not bring justice, it could not diminish pain. the world remained brutal, unconscionable, harsh while the smile stayed fixed on a face made of inanimate powerless mud.

tears streamed down khushi's face... the feeling in his chest grew wild. he had to stop it.

mine mine, you're mine. something cried.

sindoor. mangalsutra. she believed in such things.

he didn't.

with or without sindoor, with or without mangalsutra, with or without what you call god, with or without lies, falsehood, unfaithfulness... you are mine. for six months. forever.

the black beads gleamed as he snatched the mangalsutra and thrust it around her neck. he did not look into her eyes. he did not feel the tears in his...

mine, you are mine. only mine.

the powder was smooth and full between his forefinger and thumb. red. she was always beautiful in that colour. it had been raining that evening and she had worn red... chiffon, floating and lissome, chiffon brushing his face... her red smearing him.

his fingers moved swiftly, unerringly, to find their mark. a parting at the centre of her hair. straight and clean... unlike her, crooked and filthy,
he grimaced and looked at the night.

you are mine, the temple bells chimed in the storm, the fire in the havan raged... yes, you are.

he touched her forehead and drew the line with force. red it bled. his mark on her. forever.

no matter what, you are mine.

his chest seemed to explode. he reached out and held her hand in a fast grip. her eyes were wells of dark desperate tears. he wanted to drink from them.

***


it was almost ten am, asr sat reading the papers with his cup of steaming black coffee in the sitting room, planning his day. he had to be in office by noon, a designer whose work he liked was coming down to see him.

the habitual frown came on as he perused headlines, flipped to the news from the markets... never good these days anyway... but the greatest opportunities, as every canny businessman knew, were to be found when things were down. his mind wondered over the possibilities... he had been searching for a while for something new to add to the fashion interests of ar. watches, maybe? or accessories... jewellery was an option... di would be great at managing that.

he was feeling calm after the night of the sudden tempest. he felt fresh, alive, eager to go do things, make a deadly deal.

a lopsided grin appeared at the thought... oh to get into a deal now. to find that point in it where you made one sharp single cut and it cleaved perfectly... the diamond cutter's judgement was needed for that, and arnav singh raizada had plenty of that. the coffee smelled really good, he took a long sip, contemplating getting his hands into something new... another challenge. brown eyes sharpened and glinted, growing caramel cacao sienna.

khushi!

an intrusion in his thoughts, a welcome one. he had grown used to her popping up in his thoughts like that. and anyway, he loved the feeling of her in him. his lips stretched in a playful grin.

how had he ever lived without her he thought. his heartbeat picked up pace; again, nothing new, now he was almost used to this phenomenon. she called it acidity. he thought of her voice, her hair, her flowing arms, her constant chatter... her smile soothed his tears, it awakened his desire... to live, to love... where was she? he looked around and spotted her in the bedroom.

how come she was so quiet?

he was about to call out to her and say, "hey, we are not on our way to nainital, i won't cut your salary if you speak," remembering a day that had so many memories of khushi, typical absolute khushi, replete with pakoda and pagalpan... when he saw her through the doorway, she was standing by the bed and holding up her red dress... beautiful in red she was always, he thought.

as he watched, she lay the dress on the bed. but she wasn't her usual brisk self and she would normally be talking endlessly while doing things like that... she liked to say all sorts of things to him, especially in the mornings, before he left for work and they parted for almost ten hours, sometimes fourteen. but today, not a word. and there was a slowness to her limbs, a droop to her head as she looked in the cupboard and brought out a dress hanger and a dust cover. she began to put the dress on the hanger.

something about her looked so sad, asr got up and walked over to her without saying anything. he couldn't. khushi looked completely downcast... what was the matter?

he was right in front of her and she hadn't even realised, so engrossed was she in her task.

"hey!" he said softly.

her head jerked up and she looked at him, startled.

tears clung to her lashes, gleaming as she moved.

"shit!" he said under his breath... an expletive, out before he could control it.

his chest felt a thing breaking in it.

he held her by the shoulder and drew her near, "what is the matter, khushi?" he asked, a frown of pure tenderness etching lines on his forehead.

"kuchh nahin," khushi looked down swiftly, trying to get a hold of herself, her stubborn feelings.

(nothing.)

"you can tell me... can't you?" he persisted.

"nahin... woh... aap... you don't like me to wear a dress in front of... " she struggled for a second, "i just want to put this dress away... bas..."

"what nonsense!" his anger came as it often did, fast, without warning. he pushed her away and swivelled around. his body had gone ramrod straight and rigid, his jawline had set and looked inflexible, his eyes smouldered. again a tussle had started in his mind...

khushi began to bend down to pick up the dress once more. her lips quivered. why must it always hurt? why was arnav ji so hurtful and why could she not help him... he would always be in pain... tears blurred her vision and when she felt his touch on her bare arm, she asked no question, just turned and hurled herself against him, wanting his arms around her.

he held her and stroked her back, shushed her with whispered "shh!"s as he always did when she cried. she snuggled deeper into him. no need to explain anything to me, she thought... just be happy, arnav ji... please be happy... i can't bear to see you suffer. the look in his eyes brought a terribly dark night back. she remembered his eyes as he had put the sindoor on her parting that night. he had not looked at her, but she had seen his vacant dark gaze, even that couldn't hide the pain... she had wanted to hold his hands and bring them to her heart, settle them on her heartbeats, let her heart feel his touch and ask, why are you doing this, don't you know, don't you know all i want is to see you happy... don't look like that, arnav ji.

she reached behind her and caught his left hand, he let her hold it and take it to her heart and place it there. she held his hand and stayed where she was.

"khushi," he said evenly, "please don't think like that. i know i behaved badly... i know i hurt you... please forgive me." he realised she was still hurting and she had forgiven him as she always did but that did not mean she was alright.

khushi smiled to herself, "nahin forgiving!" she mumbled.

"stop being too kind to me, stop accepting all my anger and not asking for any explanation..." he sounded dead serious,"problem hai... khushi, i know i have a problem with temper... but honestly, khushi, i have no problem with you dressing any way you please. i even love your ridiculous pompom heck..."

"kya?!" khushi shot out of his arms, "aap ne mere pompom ko ridiculous bola! hum yeh bardaasht nahin karenge, arnav ji!"

(what? you called my pompom ridiculous, i shall not tolerate this, arnav ji!)

she stood there grinning at him, her eyes pushing aside all hints of the turbulence within.

he looked at her for an instant, then his arm shot out, he caught hold of her wrist and pulled her along with him to the sitting room. he made her sit on a sofa, then sat down a little away from her.

"khushi, i know you don't like to have serious discussions about us... i know you feel anxious when things are not okay between us... but sometimes, khushi, it is okay to say things... even if it causes a bit of discomfort..." asr spoke in a low matter of fact tone, his eyes on his wife, a need to reach her in them.

khushi wished he would just come and hold her.

"sheesh mahal had rules, khushi... many, many rules... dadi's rules... and not one of them gave my maa a right to be who she was..." his eyes had grown thoughtful, "har cheez, everything... that happened was about the men of the family, to please them, to make them comfortable..." he took a deep breath, "khushi, you are my wife... you are not my slave... nor my support system..." he smiled a little, "that's aman... you are the person i can't live without... i don't want to live without... jee nahin paaonga... jeena chahta bhi nahin tumhare bagair..."

khushi made a move to get up at that.

"no.. no... hear me out," he gestured with his hand telling her to keep sitting, "you don't have to wear what i want you to wear, eat what i want you to eat, do anything just because i want you to... i have said before, don't change a thing about yourself... and even if i don't want you to wear something, if you wish to, if you think it's good for you, just wear it, samjhi tum... khushi, i don't want to tie you down..." he sighed, "for you i want freedom... just the freedom to soar... be everything you can be... i love watching you being... just you... ok?!" he was smiling to himself now.

"ok... i did feel a strange anger watching you being looked at by yosel," he said, again growing sombre pushing into conversation that was difficult, "i don't think it's logical, i think it has a lot to do with feelings from sheesh mahal, i don't say it's right... and haan, i have my gussa as you know... everything became too much... ek ghutan si..." he had closed his eyes involuntarily, as aftershocks of the night before's turmoil came upon him again.

(... a sort of suffocation...)

when he felt a weight on his knees, he opened his eyes quickly. what the! she was sitting on his lap... and as he stared at her, she leaned forward and started kissing him, slipping her tongue into his mouth before he could say anything.

"khushi," he groaned against her tender sweet caress, her sensuous stroking of his lips, his teeth, his tongue, his palate, she nipped him on the chin and rushed back to take his mouth in a kiss again... her body strained against him.

he let his arms go around her and pulled her nearer still, his hand roamed over her, unable to stop, not wanting to be able to stop.

she was beginning to pull his tee shirt up his chest now...

"i have to be in the office by twelve," he said as he started kissing her neck, her throat, then pulled her right up so he could rub his cheek against her soft belly and kiss her on the tender skin there, just a little plump, full, just the way he liked it... he bit her playfully. she squirmed.

"toh jaaiye, aapko kaun rok raha hai," she said, holding his shoulders and pulling him up so they were facing each other again, and she moved closer, tantalising, teasing, touching the tip of her nose to his and drawing back as he sought to come closer, her hands off him, held away... "jaiye," she said in a guttural whisper. a hum of energy thronged the air, and perhaps a wayward breeze had gotten in and was playing with their hair... was there a song rising somewhere too?

(so go, who's stopping you... go...)

all he could manage was another wretched groan. before he pulled her hard into his arms and felt her body yield readily to his.

khushi could sense a lightness in her bones, her very breath... her heart was bursting with just plain and simple love. did arnav ji have any idea how much she wanted to be tied by him, kept close, held firm and tight and told to shut up, get out... feel his gussa, be the one he would hurl his hot singeing gussa at. her arnav ji... how could a rakshas be such a rajkumar... it still surprised her.

"jaiye!" she whispered again.


***


"no... no... akash, i know what you say is true... but it really doesn't excite me... not for ar!" asr sounded quite adamant speaking to akash over the phone.

"par bhai, you know, this is the trend now and there's potential... i'll go with what you decide, bhai, but a line for men may not be a bad idea and our understanding and experience is there too... any young man in the country would love to wear clothes from a design house led by one of the most trendy men ever, i am sure," akash was smiling you could tell and asr knew when his cousin wanted to get something across, he didn't give up easily, no matter how gentle and pliable his demeanour and tone.

"okay!" asr said abruptly,"will think about it... but primarily ar is about women's clothes... it's about a woman, her style, her spirit... akash, that's our arena, our base really... so let's think of something else too, shall we?" he paused for a second, then continued, "and akash, all well with payal?"

"yes, bhai... she misses khushi though, her doctor has asked for a few weeks of bed rest... and doctor verma seems to agree," akash said bye and hung up.

asr wondered for a moment about doctor verma. vijay verma seemed to be growing close to di. then he let the thought be and went back to his work. he liked the portfolio of the young british woman he had just met. angela dasilva, her mother was english while her father was from goa, she seemed to have a refreshing view of the silhouette. something youthful and vibrant yet just a little vulnerable in the look...

but what was the next thing he wanted to take ar to? suddenly, this question had become important to answer. because ar had to go to its next level, scale to a new aspiration. after a long long time he felt this call in him, his imagination fertile, his will strong, a sense of excitement at the very thought of tomorrow.

years ago, he recalled his first nascent dream. a fashion house. contemporary, fashionable yet wearable clothes for women. he had been fascinated by the current nature of the business, its transience, the sense of speed in it, of change. maybe that gave him energy... animation. and a sense of being alive. when death was his first thought in the morning, last thought before he drifted off to sleep.

mami ji had sold all her jewellery so a young untried boy's gut feel and hard work would get a chance. asr smiled at the thought of his crass loud mami. such absolute faith in him, so much love. he suddenly missed her.

***

"hello hi bye bye! payal bitiya, youj are gettings ups bhy? remembers you ares supposing to lie downs and put leggsiya up, okay? om prakash, bhy naats bringing aarange joos, so late aalready, my grandson gettings hungry i am suwar!" manorama was in form today, her banarasi was purple and bright, her lipstick a wonderfully mismatched coral, the thought of becoming grandmother obviously filled her with delight and she saw no harm in letting a sense of power get into the mix and assert itself too. a grandson... yes, the first grandson of the raizada family would be her akas bitwa's boy. 

(hello hi bye bye! payal dear, why are you getting up? remember you are supposed to lie down and put up your feet? om prakash, why haven't you got the orange juice yet, it's so late already, my grandson is getting hungry am sure!)

"sorry, mami ji, i'll just get it!" om prakash said in fairly crisp english. mami ji glared at him. om prakash looked sheepish and scratched his head, payal began to grin.

she wondered what her mother in law would say if payal told her both akash and she were hoping to have a daughter. the house had lost a daughter that day when a terrible man had decided to kill his own offspring. though neither akash nor she spoke to the family about it, they had both sensed a curious blessing when she discovered she was pregnant.

akash had held her tight in his arms, she could feel his joy... "payal ji, do you know how happy you make me..."

"hmm hmm," she had mumbled clinging to him. this gentle, quiet man with deep eyes whose beauty was always hidden behind those glasses of his.

"what do you want, payal ji, beta ya beti?" he had said looking at her with a wide grin, "ya phir dono hi?" he had actually winked. payal recalled with a giggle.

(what do you want, payal ji, son or daughter? or perhaps both?)

"i want a child, someone who will be healthy, happy, and bring happiness for all of us," she had replied, "par, akash ji, why do i get the feeling, it would be perfect if she were a girl?" it was such a powerful feeling, payal had been genuinely confused, taken aback.

akash had stroked her cheek, cupped her face and kissed her on the nose, "payal ji, it's because you are wise and sweet and kind, and because you and i want the same thing... she should come to our family, na? our little girl..."

payal started as she heard manorama say, "hoonh!" and shake her head disdainfully, her massive kundan earrings swinging wildly, om prakash getting above himself and learning english clearly still rankling with her.

"how good om praksh ji sounds, hai na, mami?" anjali had just come in with the orange juice, "payal ji, come, have your juice jaldi jaldi... how is my little nephew or niece doing?"

"anjali bitiya, eeph i habhing grandson then how you ares habhing niece, tells me?" mami said with an arch smile.

(anjali, if i am having a grandson , how would you have a niece tell me?)

"no problem, mami ji, if i have a niece you can have her for granddaughter, promise!" anjali pulled mami's leg gently, "aur fir, granddaughters are the best ever, don't you think... ask nani ji!" anjali was obviously in a bright and happy mood and looking at her mami decided to let her ire go.

okay, she would deal with it if it turned out to be a granddaughter... and anyway, she would still be a dadi, her mother in law would have to give her face. and beside, if not grandson this time... next time. she tossed her head, said, "i go touchupiya makeupiya and comes!" and sashayed away with her trademark side swings.

payal almost burst out laughing remembering khushi's "idharwa one thumka udharwa one thumka" walk as she did a take on manorama  raizada one day to cheer up payal... her sister was impossible really, she hoped khushi was having a good time with arnav ji. she had been through so much... and to find out all that about her mother. payal suddenly missed khushi terribly.

pregnancy did funny things to you, payal found it was getting hard to suppress her thoughts, modify her feelings. one minute she was giggling, the next she wanted to cry.

she felt a calm hand stroking her arm and shoulder. di was sitting by her on the bed, looking at her.

"don't worry, payal ji... you feel sensitive and funny when you are pregnant," anjali looked so kind, again payal felt like bawling,"all sorts of thoughts and feelings, i used to have so..." anjali's voice halted abruptly. a shattered look flitted across her face.

payal held her sister in law's hand in hers and just waited for her to recover. nothing that happened to di she knew had been easy. but at this moment, she understood it perhaps better than ever before.


***

it was almost six in the evening, and though it was quite late in delhi, asr decided to call di anyway. he had been thinking of her a lot today. for some reason, a disquiet in him. was she alright? he had been away for over a week but she had hardly called. that was strange. usually, for all sorts of pointless things di would dial his number, then fret about the stupidest of things.

"di?" he said, that impatience typical of him in his voice, the instant he heard the ring tone go off.

"di! are you there!" he continued without waiting for an answer.

"hello, chhotey! haan baba, i am here," di sounded happy, he relaxed a little.

"why haven't you called me for so long, di, what's the matter!" he said with his brusque demanding air.

"chhotey, will you stop shouting?" anjali said in her big sister voice, "what's the matter? i just wanted you to have a bit of time with khushi ji and ..."

"so, how would that be affected if you called," he said completely refusing to understand this sort of thing, "khushi was also worried, in fact, she said to me that i should call to see..."

anjali sighed.

"chhotey, tum toh pagal ho hi, ab khushi ji bhi..." she said, "tell me, how is everything with you? are you having your medicines? and taking khushi ji to some nice places, ya phir you are stuck in your office... chhotey..."

(chhotey, you are mad, now even khushi ji...)

"di..." asr cut in.

anjali could sense a hesitation in his voice.

"di... i want to ask you something..." he started.

"yes, chhotey?"

"di, do you... i mean, are you... di, do you like doctor verma?" asr said it feeling a thousand feelings ambush him. his brow creased in a deep frown, his jaw was set... his body tense. and he had no idea why. but he was worried about di he realised. very worried. he could sense something and he knew she was struggling. they had hardly spoken since that night at sheeshmahal.

shyam and chacha ji and all that came spewing out that night... a tic appeared at the end of his jawline. how was di handling it all? she had been through hell ever since his kidnapping. it had been relentless. his lips tightened as he thought of shyam. how he wished he could make it all go away... how he wished di never ever had to go through that pain ever. certainly not again and again... but life was rarely what you wished it to be.

you had to take it in your hands. make it work. make it go where you wanted it to. arnav singh raizada told himself to calm down, di needed him he knew...

"chhotey, what do you mean?" anjali sounded strange, not her usual self. evasive.

"di! main aapse kuchh kahna chahta hoon... aap humse badi hain, aap humse behtar bahut kuchh samjhti hain... aur aap mere liye sab kuchh hain, aur rahengi... di, i have always laughed at you when you have spoken of feelings... okay okay! i don't mean feelings... i mean... love!" he paused, a little awkward suddenly. then resumed, "i just wanted to say, if you feel... i mean... di, do you feel good when you are with doctor verma... or think of him... do you want to spend time with him? then i just want to tell you, please don't let any fear or ideas of good, bad, whatever stop you... di, you deserve to be happy and..." thoughts crowded him, in them a sadness he could never allay, "maa... never had it... but di, a second chance... don't turn away from it..." his voice had grown gruff, tears poured in him somewhere, he could neither stop them, nor deny them.

(di, i want to tell you something... you are older than me, you understand things better than i do... and you are everything to me, you will always be.)

anjali would have laughed and said, why i thought i was like nirupa roy when i spoke of love and a girl who will make your breath stop, now you are sounding like a karan johar film, but she couldn't. she closed her eyes and let her tears flow.

"haan, chhotey! i will not let happiness go should it want to come to me... dekho na, kitni koshish ki maine, par shyam ji... but no, i know chhotey, you are there for me always and now khushi ji too... yes, i like doctor verma, bas?" she wondered why her heart felt so light and easy as she said the last sentence. she had turned instinctively to vijay for help so many times, somewhere along the way she had started feeling all kinds of things when he was around, but she had not felt comfortable with her thoughts... did she deserve happiness at all? maybe not, maybe that's why everything always ended terribly in her life...

when vijay kissed her at the door that first time, she had wanted to hold him close, but she hadn't... she had no idea how to view her feelings. did good people fall in love more than once? and besides, she had let one man touch her... how could she allow anyone else? dadi always spoke of the high moral ground a woman must aspire to... if you were a girl, you had to be careful, your izzat was everything, a good woman would never allow anyone but her husband get intimate with her and of course, good women never had more than one husband...

anjali knew a lot of what her paternal grandmother had instilled in her were really fairly empty ideas, possibly her dadi's way of coping with her life, but ideas imbibed as a child have a strangely firm grip over your thoughts and instincts. she had not been able to be totally at ease about the feelings and desires vijay evoked in her. so she hid it all behind brisk happy talk and held her arms firmly by her side as he kissed her when they met and parted. she did, however, accept every invitation of his and nani had let it be known that any time doctor saab wanted to, he was welcome to come and have dinner with them. he dropped in quite regularly and even mami had started warming to him.

"yes, i do like him..." anjali repeated, "my naak pe gussa dil romantic shomantic bhaiyya," she was blushing a fairly bright red.

(yes, i do like him, my anger on his nose but at heart all romantic bro.)

asr smiled slightly. at last the niggling feeling was gone. di sounded like herself... and she had a spark of joy in her voice. he was hearing that after years, perhaps for the first time since that day when he had come home and slapped shyam in front of her dazed eyes and thrown him out.

doctor vijay verma was a good man and if he'd never had that accident... the one shyam had so carefully engineered, vijay verma would never have come into di's life.

as he thought that, asr checked himself... no, life was not a simplistic linear tale where loose ends got tied up neatly. but what the, once in a way it did happen. he threw back his head and laughed. the last vestiges of a bleak dark feeling beginning to leave his body, his mind... feelings which had started on a terrace one dark night.

this really called for a good single malt whisky, he decided and got up, now in a hurry to reach home.

as he walked out into the breezy evening, his tie flew up and checked out the air, his hair followed suit windblown in seconds, he called khushi to tell her about di and to get ready quickly... but her phone was busy.


***

"amma?!!!" khushi shrieked with delight, "how come you are calling me... international call! hayee, chaliye phone rakhiye, i'll call you back..."

(awww... go on, put the phone down, i'll call you back...)

"nahin, khoosie bitiya," amma said quickly, "i just wanted to hear your voice, bas... and give you some very good news... your babu ji is much better now, he is walking a little bit too... doctor verma has been so helpful... and khoosie, aaj unhone bahut din ke baad humse baatey ki! devi maiyya ka lakh lakh shukr," khushi could tell her mother was crying. and surprisingly, there was something other than just happiness in her voice.

(and, khushi, today after a long time, he spoke to me! many thanks to devi maiyya for this blessing!)

"amma! i am so happy to hear that, will you let him say hello to me, i haven't heard him for so long," khushi knew she sounded tremulous, "par amma, tell me, what else did you want to say... we are never going to hide anything from each other, theek hai? bataiye humey, hum jaantey hain you are upset..."

(... we are never going to hide anything from each other, okay? tell me, i know you are upset...)

"nahin, woh..." garima paused then deciding something, carried on, "unhoney humse kaha ki he did not have a stroke suddenly as we all thought... woh.. woh... shyam ji unhen dawai nahin di jab unhen daura aa raha tha, aur... he grabbed him and tried to kill him, in fact..." she said haltingly.

(no... he told me that he did not have a stroke suddenly as we all though... that... shyam ji refused to give him his medicines when he was getting an attack, and, he grabbed him and tried to kill him, in fact...)

"shyam ji!" khushi couldn't believe her ears. and yet, a part of her said, why should that surprise you. what had her poor babu ji done to that monster... why did her wonderful loving father have to suffer like this... for more than two years he had suffered. suffered so much. but why, why did shyam ji do this?

a memory flashed. babu ji going almost hysterical when he saw di that first time when she had come home to talk about jiji's wedding.

babu ji must have known, khushi deduced, that shyam ji was married to di when he was trying to manipulate her into marrying him. how very sad for her father, not being able to help his daughters... and how sad for anjali ji, to have been married to such an unholy man.

hey devi maiyya, why do good people suffer like this?

"amma," khushi tried to soothe her distraught mother, "devi maiyya will protect babu ji, don't worry, he will be fine... and see... shyam ji will pay for this too... we may have no way of proving this, but i know he will not get away with it... if only i had not met him that day," khushi almost wept as she remembered,"sab meri galati hai!"

(it's all my fault!)

"shh... khoosie, don't talk like that... galati kissiki nahin hai... in life things happen, we just do what's best at that time... i was perturbed, i wanted to tell you because i felt you needed to know the truth... payaliya is pregnant now, i don't want to upset her... but some day..." garima gupta had gone through much in life and she had learned the importance of keeping focused on the valid, the good... there was enough and more evil and wrong in the universe, but if you had even one thing good in your world, it could vanquish a million evils. and she had been blessed with so many wonderful people in her life, who loved her without question. she was mother to two beautiful girls she had not given birth to and she was the only love in a man's life whose second wife she had become. but still, when she had heard about shyam, she had sorely felt the need to kill someone for the first time ever in her life.

***

"nand kissore ka matlab kya hai, nandlala ka matlab kya hai, shyam ka matlab kya hai, giridhar gopal ka matlab kya hai? buaji, why does your nand kissore have so many names? my salman ji has only one!" the ten year old child was helping her aunt set up the janmashtami jhoola, endless questions pouring out as she darted about putting a flower here, a little silk cloth there, dusting and rearranging the tiny swing again and again. she loved janmashtami, she wanted to sit next to kishan ji and be swung in the jhoola. and she wanted to be the one to pull the string longer than anyone else during prayers.

(what's the meaning of nand kishore, what's the meaning of nandlala, what's the meaning of shyam, what's the meaning of giridhar gopal?)

"hai re nand kissore, aafat ki puriya, sanka devi, now i have to tell you why god himself has so many names... that one is god, samjheo? ooka agar vishwa brahmand ke saare naam chahiye, toh woh unka howat... kaa? nand kissore means son of nand, also nandlala... syam yaani syam varna, kaala... he was not fair you know..." exasperated though madhumati was, she explained to her curious noisy niece.

(that one is god, understand? if he wants all the names in the whole wide universe, then they are all his, what! nand kishore means son of nand, also nandlala... shyam as in the shyam colour, black... he was not fair you know...)

"haw, if shyam means black and that is god's name then black is good na, buaji? then why do you make jiji put fair and lovely? she hates it you know, also all that turmuric paste and malai..." khushi made a face as she danced around with a garland of flowers before placing it where buaji was sternly telling her to.

"since shyam means dark, does god do dark things? ever?" khushi's next question flummoxed bua ji.

"dark things? no, parmeswari, god does what needs to be done, we do the dark things, nand kissore... then blame god... see how we name all the world, nand kissore, after god... thinking only good things will be done, but never happens that way, never! hai re nand kissore!" bua ji sighed heavily, khushi wondered why bua ji never took off that om locket on that tight chain around her neck, the one that bobbed up and down constantly when bua ji spoke...

"om matlab kya hai?" khushi continued firing questions.

(what's the meaning of om?)


***


asr walked into the flat feeling excited, where was khushi? he had to tell her about di.

"khu-" he began to call out...

then he saw her standing at the doorway of their bedroom. her eyes looked puffy, her nose was red. what-

she began running toward him just then...

she was running toward him in a dark dishevelled godown, that first time she'd raced across to him and put her arms around his tired bruised body... letting him come home at last...

she was running toward him in a room in sheeshmahal, shyam and chacha ji watched, their jaws dropping, asr was pleased to note. her eyes were only on him and a curiously happy smile on her face...

ohhh khushi...

his heart seemed to call out to her from across all the times they had been together, been each other's. mine, you are mine, a voice in him said..

he let his briefcase fall to the floor and held open his arms.

she landed on him, throwing him off balance a bit. he wanted her to do just that... he wanted her to always know he was there no matter what.

"hey!" he laughed, "what's the matter...? missed me so much?"

she had buried her face in his neck and was refusing to look up.

"khushi?" he asked, now tender... there was no answer.

"khushi!" his voice grew instantly urgent. something was wrong.

"it was him, arnav ji..." khushi whimpered, "my babu ji... he wasn't sick shyam ji tried to kill him..."

they had never made it to nainital... and he had left her on the road, angry with her... no, with himself. later he had heard her father was in hospital and some unknown force had claimed him. he had to see her... he had to be there for her... even if he wanted to get her out of his thoughts, his sight, his life...

"khushi!" he had whispered standing in that hospital corridor.

and she had come running to him... into his arms, throwing herself on him, burying her face against him, wanting reassurance... nothing else... and he had not been able to return her embrace, tell her it will be alright, he was there, he would let nothing happen...

his arms went around khushi gathering her closer, "shh... shh... baby, my sweetheart... khushi... don't worry, shyam will not harm you any more, he will never hurt babu ji again... i am here... i promise..."


***

"kadwa hai..." khushi said grimacing, after the first sip.

(it's bitter!)

asr had persuaded her to have a whisky with him. she was not too keen, but he had assured her she would love it and if not, he had some good red dessert wine on standby.

he had never needed company to have his drink. but for a while now he had wanted to sit with khushi and have a drink... his drink.

he wanted to make it for her in fact. four cubes of ice in a baccarat crystal heavy bottomed whisky glass, he tended to prefer the classic harcourt design, although smoke was yet another look he enjoyed, younger but stylish. a splash of macallan into it, sliding and dancing over the ice. how much? always, his call... no peg measure to interfere and start quoting rules to arnav singh raizada.

he had decided to start with the lighter more pleasant taste of macallan before letting her try his favourite laphroig... too smoky for a beginner he reckoned and he didn't wish to turn her off permanently.

the clear glass showed off the amber tones of the fiery liquid, she looked at it, her nose wrinkling.

"try it," he coaxed, they were sitting by the window looking out at the lights gleaming outside, the moon was a large golden ball tonight.

she took a sip gingerly. he waited, his glass almost at his lips.

then she pronounced her verdict.

"what the... this is not mango juice, you know... let it be, i'll get you a ..." he started off, immediately irate.

"hume kadva cheez pasand hai," she said ignoring him and looking very serious, and took another sip, "jaisa kadva karela... khadoos laad..." her eyebrow was raised, and she was attempting a lopsided grin.

(i like bitter things.)

he looked at her and started laughing. she was flirting with him, dammit.

his eyes grew soft as he took his first sip looking at her... how his crazy jhalli girl had grown in just these couple of years. a girl who was raised in a simple home, sheltered; who had hardly seen anything of life; tender, innocent, nubile; who believed in life being a straightforward thing where if you stuck to traditions all would be well... who had almost walked into a pillar when she heard lavanya was living with him and they were not married... who had a childlike belief in good, who had an innocence nothing could mar... who had never ever thought she would meet a man as difficult as him and then actually fall in love with him... how much she had faced... and how much she had fought off her own barriers... taken steps outside what felt safe... how magnificently she had handled it all, the bad things, the new things, things that confused and challenged her... and his weeks in coma... how had she managed so much... his pagal, his khushi...

"khushi!" he raised his glass, "to you, because you are... you!"

khushi blushed and took a huge gulp of the warm golden liquid. felt as though she tasted him.

***

"arnav ji, let's go out!" khushi said, her words slurring slightly.

"out?" he was definitely not uninebriated, "khushi, come 'ere now!"

he wanted to make love to her.

but she was having none of it.

"out! bahar... now... i want to go out, otherwise arnav singh raizada, you going jail, samjhe tum, chakki peesing and peesing, only buriyah with you... nooo khushi?" khushi giggled.

he sighed, she had gone into filmi mode... now there was no escape.

"okay! okay!" he stood up with his hands raised in the air, surrendering... "let me get the car keys..."

"nahiin!" she leapt up and fell on him, "no bentley shentley!"

bentley... shentley??? asr winced.

"huh!" he exclaimed, then muttered, "what's wrong with the women in my life... bentley shently romantic shomantic... i need a drink..."

"no drive," she swayed a little, "no drive when you drink... my car... we take my car... okay, big red car?"

red? he thought... a smile slanted across his lips, ohhh khushi, you always look beautiful in red... even that night when i was a monster you were a lovely princess in carmine.

he smiled mushily, quite drunk now, he had no idea how many macallans he had poured into his glass... khushi was so happy... who was counting...

"mine, you are mine, mrs arnav singh raizada," he whispered in her ear and tried to pull her toward the bedroom, he couldn't understand why they were not making love still.

"and you are mine, d'you understand, laad governor mister raizada, no chakki no peesing!" she wagged her finger at him and pulled him along in the opposite direction, out of the flat stomping across with him to the main road, then she stopped at one point...

"no, khushi... nooo!" he protested, realising what she'd meant.

"yes, yesyesyesyesyes," she prattled merrily pushing him into the huge red bus that had just trundled up to the stop.

what the f... he thought... there was red, there was khushi, there was him and that night... beside nothing said you couldn't kiss your wife in a bus... nor you couldn't make love.

***

they were the last two passengers in the bus now, they'd gone all the way to the terminus then got into the bus coming back... they sat arms around each other, snuggling, nuzzling, kissing at times.

"do you know, arnav ji," khushi rubbed her cheek against his stubble, "this is our second bus ride together..."

"it is?" he looked at her nonplussed, then his eyes sparkled browner still, "last time there was such a big crowd and you had been crying so much, tum bahut roti ho khushi," he whispered.

(you cry too much, khushi.)

khushi swallowed hard. so she had not imagined it... he was there with her that day, when she had missed him terribly, scared he may not recover, desperate for him.

"arnav ji or salman ji?" he looked at her quizzically and said, wanting to make her feel loopy again, happy... just the two of them together.

"daniel ji!" she replied after a thoughtful pause.

"huh?" asr was foxed.

"haan!" she put her head on his shoulder and settled in comfortably, "aapne kabhi james bond film dekhi hai? hayee, maar dhad, dhishum dhishum, action drama, sachchi mein angreji film utna bhi bura nahin hai, aur daniel craig ji toh... my name is bond, james bond, my name is raizada, arnav singh raizada!" she chortled.

(yes, have you ever seen a james bond film? oh, the fighting, the bashing, the action and drama, really, english films aren't so bad after all... and daniel craig ji is... my name is bond, james bond, my name is raizada,

arnav singh raizada!)



i've drowned and dreamt this moment
so overdue, i owe them
swept away, i'm stolen
let the skyfall...


~~~ adele and paul epworth, skyfall ~~~