2020. 1. Heart of a Rose (Part 7)

 

Part 7

Garima stood shell-shocked as Mami clutched her with eager arms, weeping all over her shoulder.

Sasi stood gobsmacked. Where was the upper-class lady who had entered his house a few minutes back, all Benarsi saadi and poise?

“Garima, how could you forget your Manno?” mami wept, lavishly spreading her kajal on Garima’s clothes.

“Manno?” Garima asked in acute shock. She held mami away from her and gazed at the colourful face before her, unable to recognise her. The eye makeup, rouge, and the hundred other cosmetic products mami had slapped on her face had mixed and mingled, turning her face into an abstract painting by a toddler.

“It is me, your own Manno, Garima. Remember how we shared the same bench in classwaa and how the bald Maths teacherwaa would ask me questions every day and you would whisper the answers to me,” mami wept.

Garima’s mouth fell open. It was Manorama! “Manno,” she whispered, fervently hugging her dear friend whom she hadn’t seen for decades.

Buaji’s face was a picture as she looked at the touching reunion happening in her living room. She raised one eyebrow at Sasi as if to ask him what in the name of Nandkisore was happening. Sasi shrugged helplessly. He had lost the plot a while back and it didn’t look like he had any hope of regaining it.

The Raizadas were no less intrigued. They watched the happenings with interest, smiling away at mami’s nautanki. Chandu Lal was thrilled. Finally, he was seeing light at the end of a very complicated and twisted tunnel.

“Meet your jiju,” mami said, tugging Garima to Manohar who stood up with folded hands to greet his wife’s childhood friend.

“I have heard numerous stories of your escapades, Garimaji,” Manohar said laughing. “I am so pleased to finally meet you. Manno had been gnawing away at my ear with tales of your eventful childhood.”

Garima smiled, saying tearfully. “Aap hamare ghar padhare, that itself is our good fortune. I never thought I would see Manno again in this life.”

Mami introduced Garima to her entire family. Anjali hugged her warmly while nani gave her blessings with a generous hand. When Garima was introduced to Akash who bent to touch her feet, she held him by his shoulders to lift him, kissed his forehead, and whispered, “Manno’s son, so grown up. Jeeyat raho, babua.” She then turned to mami and teased her, “How come you have such a well-mannered son, Manno?”

Mami laughed out loud. The Raizadas had to smile at the truth of the statement.

“Laagat he, Garima bitiya, Akass bitwaa has more of my son in him than his nautanki mother,” nani remarked with a laugh.

When the laughter died down, Garima turned to Sasi. “Payaliya’s father, this is Manorama, my childhood friend. We studied together for years. Manno, this is your jiju. That is your jiju’s jiji,” she introduced buaji who nodded pleasantly saying with a laugh, “Laagat he koi phillum chal rahi ho, Nandkisore. Do bichade yaar meeting after years. Garima, are you sure you don’t have one portion of a soapbox and Manoramaji, the other?”

All laughed.

Garima’s face grew serious. “Manno, you have come to see Khussi?”

“Yes, for Akass bitwaa’s cousin, Arnav bitwaa. Garima, you can’t deny me our bahuriya, hello hi bye bye!”

The Guptas shared worried glances.

Into this tense moment walked in Shri. Arnav Singh Raizada.

                                                        ***

 

Sasi, buaji, and Garima gasped seeing the dapper, mature-looking, suljhe hue successful businessman who wanted to throw in his lot with that of Khussi, the jhalli rani.

“Hai re Nandkisore!” buaji exclaimed.

“Jiji,” Garima whispered, a scared look thrown at buaji.

Nani introduced Arnav to the three Guptas. Like a good boy, Arnav greeted them with folded hands. The Raizadas heaved a sigh of relief as their scion displayed perfect manners and an irreproachable attitude.

“Garima, bhere ijj Khussi? We have been waitings to see her,” mami complained.

‘Hanging upside down from the balcony next door,’ Arnav could have told his mami. He hid a smile as her image flashed through his mind.

“We thought you were here to see Payaliya,” Garima revealed.

Akash gasped.

“What?” Chandu Lal asked. Could the day get any worse?

Arnav was too shocked to respond. But the other Raizadas were vocal after a long moment of acute shock.

“Payaliya? Your other daughter?” nani asked.

“But we told Chandu Lalji that Arnav bitwaa liked Khussi’s photo, hello hi bye bye!” mami exclaimed.

“I told Madhumatiji over the phone. I did. Kasam se. I told her the bride was Khussi,” Chandu Lal tried to establish his innocence.

Buaji hit her head. “Hai Re Nandkisore! There was something wrong with our phone, Devyaniji. I couldn’t hear him fully and he couldn’t hear me at all.”

“We had no idea it was Khussi,” Sasi said with a sigh.

There was silence as the Guptas looked at the Raizadas wide-eyed and the Raizadas returned the favour.

“Is it a problem that I wish to marry Khushi, uncle?” Arnav asked quietly, breaking the silence.

The Guptas hesitated, but finally, Sasi spoke, “Bitwaa, I have two daughters. Payaliya is the older one and Khussi the younger. We were expecting to marry off Payaliya first and then Khussi.” He looked at nani who nodded, understanding a father’s desire. "So, entertaining a proposal for Khussi when Payaliya is unmarried is...difficult. Moreover...” Sasi looked Arnav in the eye and said clearly, “Khussi is an orphan. She is Garima’s sister’s daughter. After the death of her parents in an accident, we have been looking after her...” His eyes pleaded with his sister to put into words their reservations.

Buaji took up the onerous duty. “Woh kaa he, Devyaniji, our relations, especially our mother, didn’t like us taking on her responsibility. She has spent many years in this house feeling like an outsider. So we were planning to get her married to a boy in Lucknow with a large family that accepts her as she is and doesn’t mind that she is an orphan, Nandkisore.”

Arnav’s heart ached for the beautiful maiden who was alone and helpless against the world. He would give her a home and a family and make up for all the bitter experiences she had undergone in this house.

 Buaji drew in a deep breath and blurted out the truth. “He will also have to accept that she is sanki, jhalli, and a parmeswari!”

The Raizadas were too astonished to speak. Arnav blinked. Chandu Lal clutched his heart. He strongly believed that too much honesty was very detrimental to the successful negotiation of a marriage proposal and buaji was determined to cross all existing boundaries of honesty.

Garima continued from where her jiji left off.   “She is young, naughty, does everything without thinking of the consequences.” Her eyes lingered on Arnav’s pristine appearance with doubtful eyes. “It will take a lot of patience and fortitude to bear her antics.”

Buaji and Sasi nodded in full agreement.

“She is pure-hearted and fun-loving, Devyaniji, and I fear, too immature for marriage to any man, let alone someone as successful as your grandson is,” Sasi spoke softly, knowing he was disappointing the whole family.

Chandu Lal's heart sank into his jootis. Nothing could save this deal when one party was determined to undermine it by being too honest.

ASR was nothing if not persistent. Water dripping on a stone for centuries to carve out a hole had nothing on him. A breath later, Arnav said softly, “My di and I are orphans, just like Khushi. So her lack of parents is not a matter of concern for us. I have a large family that is willing to make her a part of us. And although we live in Delhi, we are from Lucknow.” He was determined to save Khushi from a life of loneliness, neglect, and penury.

Nani spoke up, “Sasiji, to know if Chotey and Khussi bitiya are compatible, I think they should meet. How can we decide if they will get along?”

All the Raizadas except Arnav added their persuasions.

Sasi looked at buaji and Garima, helpless in the face of this joint entreaty.

“The girls are with their friend next door. I will summon them,” he said quietly, leaving the room.

Arnav and Akash felt their hearts lighten. They had laid eyes on the right girls.

Garima and buaji pushed the Raizadas to taste the snacks, unaware of the thoughts rushing through Arnav and Akash’s heads.

                                                         ***

2020. 1. Heart of a Rose (Part 6)

Part 6

“Devyaniji, Manoharji, aayiye, aayiye, aapka hi ghar he,” Chandu Lal said, beaming.

Sasi stood behind him, feeling extremely anxious and uncertain.

As the hordes from Delhi entered the house, greeting the broker, he turned to introduce them to Sasi.

“Sasiji, meet your samdhi. This is Devyani Raizada and her son, Manohar Raizada. This is Manorama Raizada, Manoharji’s dharam patni. Meet Akashji, their son. This is Anjaliji, your damad’s elder sister.” He turned to introduce Sasi to the Raizadas. “This is our own Sasiji whose forefathers started Satwik Mishtan Bhandar, an iconic sweet shop in our Lucknow city.”

Sasiji folded his hands in welcome. “Namaste. Aayiye, baitiye,” he murmured, motioning to the seats.

Devyani Raizada, the doyen of the family smiled broadly at Sasi. “There is no need for such formality, Sasiji. Hum bhi Lucknow ke hi hein. We are very happy to be here.”

Sasi gulped. He was saved from further bleating by Chandu Lal.

“Where is the groom?” he asked, trying to catch a glimpse of the busy businessman at the far end of the crowd.

“He is in the car,” Anjali replied with a smile at Sasi.

Maybe the boy was distressed by the appearance of the ordinary haveli the Gupotas lived in and wasn’t intending to meet the bride? Sasi looked hopefully out through the open door.

“He is talking to his secretary, Amanji. He will be here in a moment, uncle,” Anjali tried to allay what she thought was Sasi’s anxiety. He watched as she slowly limped into the room and felt extremely unsettled. Money couldn’t guarantee health or she would have been walking like a normal person, he mused.

Mami settled more comfortably in her chair and as Sasi watched, fanned herself with her hand. Her pink goggles, the makeup, her rich Benarsi saree, the latest phone in her hand, and expensive-looking handbag on her lap—she looked like an actress in a Hindi phillum. She was patently out-of-place in the middle-class setting.

Chandu Lal switched on the fan. The ancient relic produced an onerous sound as its wings made their creaky way, slightly stirring the air in the large room.

“I..I will call my wife and jiji,” Sasi murmured as he quickly made his escape.

He found Madhumati praying fervently to her Nandkisore to protect her nieces.

“Jiji, they have come. Where is Garima? We have to talk to them.” His face was grave and his voice quiet.

Madhumati nodded. “The children are in Preetho’s house, safe and sound?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Tab to theek he, Nandkisore,” buaji muttered. She turned towards the kitchen and called out, “Garima, come out. We have to meet them.”

“Coming, jiji. Aap donon jaayiye. Let me set the tray for tea,” she replied.

“The sooner the khaatirdaari is over, the sooner they will leave for Delhi,” buaji muttered. “Chalo, babua, let’s go.”

Sasi led Madhumati into the living room.

All stood up to greet her.

“This is my sister, Madhumati. My wife will be here in a moment,” he said softly.

“Please sit down with us, Madhumatiji,” Devyani invited, patting the seat next to her.

Unwillingly, buaji took the place by the elderly lady.

“We are very happy to come here, Madhumatiji, to meet your niece,” Devyani said with a comfortable smile. “We hope she will be our bahuriya soon.”

Buaji almost choked on air.

“We are very eager to meet her, uncle,” Anjali said with a bright smile, her eyes gleaming with happiness. “Chotey liked her photo and agreed for shaadi. I hope she likes him.”

Nani nodded. “He is my first grandson to get married, Sasiji. That’s why we are very excited about this rishta.”

Chandu Lal said, “Yes. Arnav Singh Raizada’s shaadi should be celebrated across Delhi.”

Anjali’s eyes fell on a family photo framed and hung on the wall. “Uncle, you have two daughters?” she exclaimed, getting up from her seat and limping towards it. Akash got up and accompanied her, holding her arm so that she didn’t trip on the carpet. “Both of them are so beautiful,” she whispered. Akash was too moved to even nod as his eyes fell on the beautiful girl standing by his bhabi-to-be.

Sasi replied, “Yes, I have two daughters.”

He turned to Devyani and Manoramaji who were trying to see the photo from their seats. “I am honoured that you have travelled so far to form a rishta with us...”

Before he could complete his sentence, Devyani waved away his apparent gratitude, saying with a laugh, “It is our need, Sasiji. We came to carry away our bahuriya.”

Mami and the others nodded in agreement.

Sasi drew in a deep breath and tried again, “We are a very ordinary middle-class family. I hope Chandu Lalji told you about us.”

Nani, Manohar, and mami nodded easily.

“From what he told us, you can look for a bride from a better family,” Sasi inserted before the Raizadas waved away his concerns. “We don’t match, Devyaniji. Our daughter may not be suitable to be your bahuriya and we are not the family you should let your grandson marry into. Chandu Lal said that he is a very successful businessman in Delhi. I am certain that he can find a bride more suited to his position than my daughter whose life revolves around the house, the shop, and the temple.”

Anjali looked at Sasi with perturbation in her wide eyes. “Uncle, please don’t worry. We will love her and treat her with all the respect our bhabi deserves.”

Akash nodded fervently.

“Devyaniji,” buaji added, “When we gave our bitiyaas’ photos to Chandu Lalji, we expected proposals from families like ours. We never expected that the Malliks...matlab the Raizadas would come with a proposal, Nandkisore. You lived like kings in Lucknow while we are a middle-class family. Hamein laagat he our bitiya will not be right for your grandson.”

The Raizadas were alarmed. Chandu Lal couldn’t believe his ears. Was Sasiji literally kicking out the Mahalakshmi who had deigned to visit his home? He opened his mouth to protest, but was beaten to it by nani.

“You know our story, Sasiji. Every child in Lucknow must have heard of what happened to my daughter and her husband,” nani spoke quietly, her eyes reflecting her pain.

Sasi nodded, looking down in the face of such anguish.

“Our position, our money, our social status...nothing could save them. After the death of their parents, Chotey and Anjali bitiya were thrown out of Sheesh Mahal by their Chacha,” nani continued.

Sasi and buaji gasped.

“They came to stay with us,” nani said. “Everything we have today, Chotey worked hard for. We know the value of sanskaar and want our Chotey to have a bride who pleases him and who is pleased by him. Aap inschinth rahiye,” nani stressed. “your daughter will be respected and loved. Woh kya he, Sasiji, Madhumatiji, Chotey was against marriage. We tried so hard...”

“But the ghoda wouldn’t drink from the poolwaa,” mami explained, shaking her head.

Sasi blinked.

“And then Arnav bitwaa agreed to marry,” mama added.

“He saw your bitiya’s photo and that was it,” nani concluded with a smile. “Maybe there was something in Khussi bitiya’s photo that made him realise how lonely he is.”

Sasi and buaji gasped, “Khussi?”

The Raizadas looked perplexed at their astonishment.

Chandu Lal looked askance at the Guptas. Now what was the problem? He felt he were running an obstacle course and tripping at every hurdle.

Garima entered the room, carrying a tray with tea.

Sasi and buaji were too shocked to even help her.

Akash jumped up from his seat and took the heavy tray from her.

She smiled at the sweet boy in gratitude and watched him place the tray on the low table at the centre of the room.

She brought plates filled with the five types of sweets and snacks Khushi had made and Akash took them from her and placed them by the tray.

Garima pulled her pallu more firmly over her head and came to stand by her husband.

“Garima,” Sasi said weakly, “the proposal is for Khussi, not Payaliya.”

Her eyes widened to their maximum size. “Khussi?” she whispered, looking at buaji in horror.

“Garima? Garima!” came another cry.

All stared in shock as a mini toofan threw itself at Garima, hugging her within an inch of her life.

2020. 1. Heart of a Rose (Part 5)

Part 5

Sasi rushed into his house, panting.

“Garima, jiji....” he called, frantic with worry. How could he make the necessary arrangements in two days?

“Kaa hua, Sasi babua?” Madhumati asked, waddling towards him.

“Jiji, we are in trouble,” he gasped.

“Kaa hua, Payaliya’s father?” Garima asked, pulling her pallu firmly over her head.

“Chandu Lal...a boy is coming to see Payaliya...” he said, wiping the sweat on his forehead.

Buaji looked at Garima, her eyes dancing with joy. “Khushi ki baat he, Sasi babua. Why are you upset, Nandkisore? Unhappy that you will have to do your daughter’s bidai?” she teased.

“They are coming on Wednesday. This Wednesday. In two days. They will be here at 5pm.” Sasi slumped in his chair.

Buaji clutched her heart. “Hai re Nandkisore!”

“Yeh kaise hoga, jiji?” Garima asked in shock. “How can we make the arrangements in two days?”

“I was planning to get the house and shop whitewashed next month,” Sasi sighed wistfully. “I never thought a rishta would come so fast.”

Garima asked, “Who is the boy, Payaliya’s father?”

“That is another problem. He is rich, educated, and from an aristocratic family,” Sasi said, his worried eyes on his wife and sister.

“Hein?” buaji exclaimed. “Why should such a boy come to our house with a rishta, Nandkisore?”

“How will our Payaliya adjust to such circumstances?” Garima asked, scared for her daughter.

Sasi nodded. “It is easy for people like Chandu Lal to say that our daughter will live like a rani in that house, but what about the difficulties our child will face in that house? The difference in circumstances! How will their friends and family treat her? What if her husband feels that she doesn’t fit in?”

Buaji nodded. “What is wrong with the boy? Why isn’t he seeking a bride from a family that matches his wealth and station, Nandkisore?”

Sasi grimaced. “He is a Mallik from Sheesh Mahal. Son of Arvind Mallik and Ratna Raizada.”

Buaji clutched her heart. “The double suicide?”

Sasi nodded.

“Hai re Nandkisore!”

“Payaliya’s father, tell them not to come here. Our bitiya will not go to that house. The Malliks were disagreeable people, all proud and very conscious of their consequence. We will not let our bitiya go to that house to suffer. How dare Chandu Lal bring such a proposal?” Garima’s cheeks turned red with anger.

“How can we ask them not to come?” Sasi asked. “That is rude. Hamare sanskaar ke virudh he.”

Buaji nodded. “Sahi keh rahe ho, babua.”

“And Chandu Lal said that the boy is handsome, well-behaved, educated, rich...and that he liked Payaliya’s photo and wants to marry her,” Sasi informed them.

“But his parents, Nandkisore...” buaji wailed.

“What’s the use of blaming him for what his parents did?” Sasi asked wearily. “If he is better than his parents and that beastly chacha of his, then he is to be commended. But I seriously hope he takes one look at us, our house, and circumstances and decides to seek a bride elsewhere.”

Buaji and Garima looked at him with wide, worried eyes.

“Whether we like the proposal or not, we have to make them welcome,” ruled Sasi. “Mujhe poora yakeen he that once he realises how far beneath him we are money-wise, he will vanish like gadhe ke sir se seengh.”

Buaji and Garima heaved sighs of relief.

Sasi glimpsed his daughters crossing the courtyard. “We have to inform Payaliya. It is no use getting her hopes up.”

The ladies could only concur with him.

“Babuji,” called Khushi. “Kya hua? I looked for you at the shop, but you were missing.” A teasing smile bloomed on her face. “You found a free moment and came home to spend time with your wife, didn’t you?”

“Khushi!” Payal was scandalised.

Garima gasped. “This girl!”

“Parmeswari!” buaji thundered. “No manners, no sanskaar, no laaj, sharm! Hai re Nandkisore!”

Sasi only chuckled. When his amusement died down, he said quietly, “We have something to tell you. Payaliya, a boy is coming to see you on Wednesday at 5pm.”

The moment of shocked silence that followed this revelation was shattered by Khushi’s squeal of joy. “Jiji! You are going to be a dulhaniya! Babuji, who is the dilwala who is coming to steal away our dulhaniya?” She turned to Payal. “Jiji, remember your promise to me. When you have children, you have to name your son, Aloo Kumar and your daughter, Poori Kumari!”

“Hai re Nandkisore! This Sanka Devi! You are deciding the names of children when the boy hasn’t even come to see Payaliya,” buaji thundered.

“The chances of this shaadi happening are slim,” Sasi warned his daughters.

“Why, babuji?” only Khushi asked. Payal was too shy to ask her father the pertinent details of her future!

“The boy is from a rich family in Delhi,” Sasi replied cautiously. “I don’t think we are a suitable match for them. I am certain that Chandu Lal made a mistake. Everything will be cleared up once they visit us. Anyway, Payaliya, when they come, go to Preetho’s house with Khussi and stay there. If there is any need for you to join us, I will call you.”

“Yes, babuji,” Payal, her babuji’s obedient pet replied.

Khushi’s face fell. “Babuji, this is ghor anyaay. I want to see my jiju. Pleaseeeeee. Aap ki paau padti hoon. Let me meet him once, babuji.”

Buaji heaved a sigh strong enough to send the walls of the house shaking. “Chup, Sanka   Devi!” she chided. “Chup karke go to your room. Now. Don’t show your face here, Nandkisore, or I will go for the belan. Kaan ke neeche ek kheench ke doongi that all bharam flies out of your head!”

Khushi grumbled under her breath about the unfairness of the whole plan and led Payal to their room.

Once the door was shut, she leaped on her jiji.

“Jiji, aren’t you excited?” she asked, hugging a pillow and jumping up and down on the bed. “Your first proposal! A boy is coming to see you for the first time.”

“Khussi!” Payal sighed. “What have we to give a rich man?”

“You! You are a price beyond compare, my jiji!” Khushi enthused. “The poori you make! They are round like a ball. And the aloo sabzi! Wah, wah! So mouthwatering! Any man should fall to the ground and thank God for being able to marry you!”

“Khushi, tum bhi na!” Payal had to smile at her sister’s antics.

                                                          ***

The next two days flew by in making sweets and changing the furnishings of the living room to make the house more presentable for the guests.

Khushi insisted on drawing a rangoli design of a peacock in the courtyard to welcome the guests.

“Khussi, I told you that this shaadi will not happen,” Sasi told her gently. “Don’t make so many arrangements. Why did you make five types of sweets and namkeen, bitiya? The boy is not for your jiji. Let’s not embarrass the guests with our preparations.”

Khushi’s face fell. “It is jiji’s first proposal,” she pouted, making her way towards her father to hug him tight. “Do you know how long I have been waiting for my jiju, babuji? Longer than jiji has been waiting for her husband,” she claimed.

Sasi sighed and ran his hand gently over her head. A moment later he said softly, “Get Payaliya and go to Preetho’s house, bitiya. You have done enough here and it is time for them to arrive.” He glanced at the clock. “Chandu Lal hasn’t arrived yet,” he muttered anxiously.

                                                             ***

Chandu Lal rushed into Gomti Sadan a few minutes before the Raizadas arrived.

“Sasiji, aren’t you happy? No? Don’t worry. Soon you will be. When you lay eyes on the boy I have picked for your bitiya, aap khushi se paagal ho jayenge. Wah, wah, Chandu Lal, you are a magician!” he praised himself.

Sasi grit his teeth. When he could control his desire to strangle the man and loosen his jaw enough to speak, he asked the broker, “Why did you pick such an unsuitable boy for my daughter? What will my child do in Delhi in a rich family except feel out of place?”

Chandu Lal dared to laugh. “Sasiji, you must meet the Raizadas. Very down-to-earth and easy-going. And Arnav Singh Raizada is very family-oriented, a far cry from his father. You will thank me...” His attention went to the entrance where two high-end cars had come to a stop. “Lagta he they have arrived. Chaliye, Sasiji, let’s welcome them.”

                                             ***

Khushi peeked from Preetho’s terrace. “Jiji, they have come!”

Payal hissed, “Come inside, Khussi. They will see you hanging from the rooftop like a shameless hussy.”

“I want to see my jiju,” Khushi insisted. She stretched her long neck out further to catch a glimpse of the boy. Her mouth fell open. “Jiji, he is so handsome! Bilkul made for you, jiji.”

“Khussi!” Payal tried to tug Khushi away from the terrace.

 Preetho joined the fun. “He is good looking, Payal jiji, but he has spectacles,” she remarked.

“And he is tall!” Khushi almost trembled in excitement. “Jiji, you will look like a doll next to him. Bilkul gudiya ki tarah.” She turned to look at her sister, her eyes filled with joy. “Jiji, when I tie raakhi to his wrist on rakshabandhan, I will have to stand on a stool!”

Preetho laughed.

Khushi dragged Payal to join them. “Look. Look at him,” she insisted.

Payal’s eyes fell on the tall, handsome, bespectacled man standing by one of the cars. His face was lifted to look at the havelis in the neighbourhood. The gentle breeze played with his hair and he lifted one hand to tame the strands. He looked up to see Payal spying on him from the roof.

Her heart skipped a beat.

After one long moment of holding his intent gaze, Payal recalled her surrounding, gasped, and turned to run away into Preetho’s bedroom.

Khushi and Preetho who had ducked when he had looked up, followed Payal into the room.

                                                     ***

“Akass bitwaa, watch and learn how your bhai gets a girl. It ijj your turns nextwaa,” mami advised her son.

Akash managed to smile, feeling his heart beat so fast that it almost jumped out of his chest. Who was that girl? Her beautiful eyes, her clear skin that looked softer than the finest silk...the startled gaze...a gazelle in motion...who was she? He felt almost dizzy, leaving him deaf to his father’s remarks and his dadi’s teasing.

“You go in,” Arnav told his family softly. “ I need to take this call from Aman.”

Akash blinked. 

"Chaliye Akash," Anjali said, taking his arm. He let himself be dragged into the house next to the one where he had seen the girl. The rest of his family followed. Arnav alone sat in his car, speaking to Aman.

                                                    ***

“Have they entered the house, I wonder?” Khushi whispered as she crawled back to her vantage point to spy on her jiju and his family. Her face fell when she saw that the street held only the two cars.

“They were in such a hurry to go inside,” she grumbled. “I couldn’t even catch a second glimpse of the groom.”

The car door opened, startling her.

A tall man emerged, phone held to his ear.

From her hiding place, she could see the shiny waves of his hair and the lean lines of his body clothed in expensive-looking fine fabric.

“Who is he?” she mused. “The groom has already gone in with his family. Is this his friend?”

“Khushi, come in,” Preetho called, laughing. “Payal jiji seems to be lost in dreams.”

Khushi was too focused on the dapper man on the street to hear her. She leaned forward, endangering her slim body and reputation as she tried to get a clear view of the man.

He ended the call, slipped the phone into his pocket in a smooth motion, and turned his head to look at her house.

Khushi felt her breath stop. He was handsome, more handsome than Salman Khanji, younger than all the Bollywood heroes she worshipped, and so charismatic that she felt time freeze as she stared her fill.

Arnav took a deep breath. He was finally in Lucknow, standing outside the house of one Khushi Kumari Gupta he had been obsessing over for the past couple of weeks. It was time to join his family and meet her. A tendril of nervousness clung to the walls of his heart. Anticipation mingled with anxiety unsettled him. Years of handling complex negotiations with great panache meant nothing as he stood outside her house, gathering sufficient courage to step inside.

About to step forward, he paused, feeling eyes on him.

He looked up and into the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen even though her face was upside down. They looked startled, bereft of naughty laughter. Khushi Kumari Gupta in the flesh. He gulped. She stepped back, her tight hold on the railing easing. The movement made her nose pin glint before she vanished from his sight.

He stood for one long moment by the road, feeling energy course through his veins as it had never done in all the years of his existence. He felt strong, invincible. His mind was made up. It was Khushi Kumari Gupta or no other for him.

He frowned. What was she doing in the house next door? Had he gotten the address wrong? He looked at the plaque on the wall. Gomti Sadan. This was the house.

He looked at the terrace once more. No Khushi.

He strode into Gomti Sadan, determined to settle things at the earliest.

                                                    ***

2020. 1. Heart of a Rose (Part 4)

Part 4

“Aman, I am considering marriage,” ASR said, his voice expressionless.

Aman gasped, the file dropping from his hand showering papers as it made it graceless way to the carpeted floor of ASR’s office.

“I have to visit the girl and her family to fix it,” ASR said with a frown, not sure about the rituals and processes entailed. “The broker will arrange the meeting and I may have to take an evening off.” He assumed the girl lived in Delhi.

“Yes, sir,” Aman managed to say.

“We need to speed up the delegation of duties. I don’t wish to continue working day and night after marriage. Fix the interviews for key positions next week.”

“Yes, sir.” Aman thanked God from the bottom of his heart. Now he could finally go to bed at a reasonable hour and get rid of the bags under his eyes.

                                                         ***

“Sasiji, hum Chandu Lal bol rahe hein!” the broker screamed into his phone for the fifth time.

“Kaun, Nandkisore?” buaji asked. The landline was faulty and at times, swallowed words.

“Chandu Lal, broker Chandu Lal!” the hapless man repeated.

“Chandu Lalji?” buaji asked, finally managing to get the name.

“Ji,” the man heaved a sigh of relief, feeling droplets of sweat trail down his neck. A climb to the Himalayas must be easier than communicating on a phone that refused to do its job, he mused. Sasiji’s mobile was in a shop being repaired and he couldn’t wait until it was ready to communicate such exciting news. “Ladka aa raha he, Madhumatiji, to see your niece, Khussi. When shall we receive him? They need a date.”

“Kaa?” buaji asked, a frown on her face. She had heard only one word in the whole conversation. “Date? Kaahe ki date?”

“To see the girl,” he spoke as loudly as he could but it was in vain. Madhumati could hear nothing. "Madhumatiji!" he screeched. Passersby turned to look at him with wide eyes. He turned away from them.

“Chandu Lalji? Kaahe phone kiye rahe to know today’s date, Nandkisore?” buaji asked.

Chandu Lal and buaji continued their conversation in this spirit till buaji slammed the phone down after explaining to the broker at length that her phone was faulty, more than half of which Chandu Lal couldn’t hear.

The broker pulled his hair with both hands in frustration. A prospective groom was ready to meet Khussi, the tomboy of Lucknow. Rich, educated, aristocratic, the boy was better than any damad Sasiji could dream of. And the commission that Chandu Lal himself would receive if the shaadi took place would keep his family well-fed for one full year. The Raizadas had to meet the Guptas. He decided to take matters into his own hands and fix a date. He also needed to inform the Raizadas about Khussi's past as Sasi had instructed him to. 

                                                         ***

“Chotey, the broker has fixed the date for Wednesday at 5 pm.” Nani was beaming.

Arnav nodded, trying to maintain his wooden expression.

Nani hesitated for a moment and then said, “We have to travel to...Lucknow to see her, Chotey.”

Arnav stilled, his eyes widening. “Lucknow?” he asked hoarsely.

Nani nodded, feeling acute regret that his future was tied to the past he was trying to leave behind. But maybe this was the way to heal him. Trying to forget the past hadn’t helped. Maybe it was time to face nightmares, shine the torch at them, and watch them vanish in the mist.

ASR clenched his jaw and ground his teeth. He didn’t want to visit Lucknow. He didn’t want a wife from Lucknow. The cursed city could self-combust and he wouldn’t feel a thing. He parted his lips to refuse, but the image of the girl flashed through his mind. The innocent laughter in her eyes, the naughty curve of her lips....He swallowed hard.

“How long will we run away from a place?” nani asked, her tone betraying her exhaustion. “Lucknow didn’t destroy us, Chotey. People did. Our people.”

He lowered his head, hiding the emotions and pain churning in his heart.

“Chotey, I...I was hoping to...not speak of these things until we reached Lucknow, but...Chotey, it is better you know everything before we set out. Khushi...the girl you liked...she is an orphan.” Nani’s voice died away.

Arnav’s eyes flew open. His mind abandoned its preoccupation with his past, its tragedies, his pain, his disillusionment, and the hard road his life had been to focus on another person. “What?” he asked, his voice a mere thread.

Nani nodded, her eyes filled with remembered pain.

“Her parents?” he managed to ask.

“Died when she was ten,” nani informed him. “An accident.”

“Both of them?” he asked incredulously on her behalf. It seemed almost bad manners on their part to die at the same time and leave a ten-year-old an orphan. How dare they!

Nani nodded. “Her mother’s sister took her in. Her husband was kind enough to open his house to the child. She calls them her parents now. Chotey, the broker informed me that her family was insistent that all prospective grooms be told the truth before they set out to see her.”

An orphan! Alone, helpless, vulnerable. Something curled up and died within him at the very thought.

“And her father is a halwai. He comes from a family of halwais.” Nani hesitated. “They are not very well off. Financially, they are no match for you. I know you picked her photo, Chotey, but if you want to change your mind...”

The protective, responsible, hurt part of him urged him to take her, Khushi, under his wing, shelter her, shoulder her responsibilities, wrap her in cotton wool, cocoon her from any potential threat, remove all thorns in her path, lavish his money on her, treasure her...He had to go to Lucknow to meet her. There was no way he could disappoint a child whose life had already dealt her a bad hand. He had to overcome his distaste for the city and meet her. There was no choice.

“I will make the travel arrangements,” Arnav stated before leaving the room.

Nani stared after him, unable to believe that her Chotey was willing to let his past be and travel to Lucknow, the scene of his worst life experiences and accept a poor girl who had a painful past.

“What did Chotey say, nani?” Anjali whispered in nani’s ear.

“He agreed.”

Mami clutched her heart, her painted eyes as wide as they could go. “Ijj that our Arnav bitwaa? Ready to marry a poor girlwaa phrom Lucknow? Has a bhoothwaa entered his body?” she asked, fluttering her eye lashes.

“Why did he agree, nani?” Anjali asked in wonder.

“I don’t know, Anjali bitiya,” nani said softly. “I am too thankful for this miracle to question it.”

                                                       ***

It was two days later that buaji remembered to inform Sasi that Chandu Lal had called.

“Chandu Lal, the broker?” Sasi asked, lowering the teacup.

“On the phone that doesn't work, jiji?” Garima asked.

“Yes, Nandkisore,” buaji sighed. “The whole world knows that our phone is not working, lekin pata naahi kyon they insist on calling us.” She popped a laddoo in her mouth and chewed it reflectively.

“Why should he call us?” Sasi wondered. His face cleared. “Maybe he has found a dulha for Payaliya. I have his number. I will call him from Mohan’s shop.”

                                                       ***

Chandu Lal was riding his scooter, battling the traffic of Delhi by sitting on the horn and shouting obscenities at drivers who flouted the rules, when his phone rang. With great difficulty and daring, he managed to manoeuvre the vehicle to the side of the road and park it.

He pulled out the phone.

The call was from an unknown number.

“Helloooo,” he said.

“Chandu Lalji, it is me, Sasi Gupta.”

“God is kind that he made you call me. I tried to inform your sister that a boy is coming from Delhi to see her niece at 5pm on Wednesday,” the broker said gleefully.

Sasi almost dropped the phone.

“Wednesday? This Wednesday? As in the day after tomorrow?” he asked, his voice high-pitched in shock.

“Yes. Get ready to marry off your bitiya to a handsome prince from Delhi, Sasiji. Good family. Aristocratic in fact. You know about the Raizadas and the Malliks, I am certain. The boy is Arnav Singh Raizada, Ratna Raizada’s only son. He took his mother’s surname. He is Arvind Mallik’s son and is a big businessman in Delhi.” Without waiting for Sasi to get over the shock, the broker continued. “You know the scandal. His parents committed suicide at Sheesh Mahal. What is the use of blaming children for the deeds of their parents? I know you are a wise man and won’t give any importance to the past. Sasiji, the family asked me to inform you about the double suicide. That’s why I mentioned it. Anyway, when you meet the boy and his family, you will forget his past. Your bitiya will live like a rani in his house.”

Sasi gulped.

“Handsome, well-behaved, educated, rich—he is a catch,” the broker continued.

“Why does he want a girl from an ordinary family then?” Sasi asked, perplexed. “If he is the reservoir of all virtues as you have made him out to be, then he can marry from the wealthiest family in the country.”

“Your bitiya is lucky. He liked her photo out of the many I sent to his nani.”

“But...”

“Shaadi he, Sasiji. Sab kuch uparwale ke haath mein he. I am only a broker. Don’t refuse the good fortune that has come to your family. Get ready to receive him and his family on Wednesday at 5pm. I will be there at about 4.30. Aap chinta na karein.”

Sasi leaned against the door of the phone booth, unable to even list the thousands of things he needed to ready before Wednesday in his mind.

A car honked behind Chandu Lal’s scooter.

“Hum chalte hein,” he told Sasi before cutting the call. “Tanik thehro,” he told the driver of the car who honked again. “The road doesn’t belong to your dadi.”

                                                          ***