21. OS 19. His Elusive Lover (Part 21)

Part 21

Khushi lay crying for a while, her heart filled with memories of all she had lost.

A car accident had taken her parents one night when she was ten years old. She had lost her sense of security, her home, her family, her everything in that one blow. It had left her with a fear of darkness and speed and had made her needy for love and approval. She was a mess, an emotional wreck, who needed to hang stars above her bed to get through the nights.

Khushi swallowed hard. It was no use shutting her eyes to the truth.

And the truth was, she was pathetic, a loser who knew her family was using her, but still let them do it because she was scared to death of being cut loose from their circle.

 She was buying love, Khushi knew.

Khushi buried her face in her pillow and wept copiously.

Carrying a black bag filled with her belongings, she had entered Gomti Sadan after the death of her parents.

 In the large rooms of that ancient, whitewashed building in a sleepy lane in Lucknow city, she had rebuilt her life again. She had become Khushi Kumari Gupta, the adopted daughter of Sasi Gupta, the halwai. The house had seen her tears when she couldn’t control her longing for her parents, her hurt when babuji’s mother had cursed her for bringing the family bad luck when that lady’s ninety year old brother had passed away, her joy when she had done well in school, her loneliness when family members of jiji had looked through her because she wasn’t really family and the thousand moments of stillness when she had stared at the stars lighting up the sky, imagining them to be her parents winking at her. Losing it was like losing a limb. But how could she express her sorrow when the house had never been hers to lose?

And then Arnavji..... She had hoped... not that she had any right to hope...but she had hoped that he liked her... 

She rubbed her eyes. They hurt with too much crying, just as her heart was bruised from being hurt too many times. He too had used her.

Khushi sighed.

Why complain when her own family were using her to further their interests? He was a relative stranger who owed her nothing. And he had paid handsomely for one month of her time.

She looked down at her hands. What did the lines etched there tell? What was to be her fate? To live alone all her life, her heart and head filled with thoughts of the man she had spent a few weeks with? To never see him again? To never make beverages for him? To never see the frown on his forehead, the grooves of fatigue on his face as he sat hunched over his laptop?

Tears flooded her red eyes and ran down her cheeks.

Payal banged on the door.

“Khushi? Open the door,” she called.

“Coming, jiji,” Khushi mumbled, her throat sore from weeping.

“Why has this girl shut the door?” Payal muttered. “Someone has come to see you. Come out.”

Khushi emerged from her room, hoping that the damage control measures she had adopted to hide the weeping session had worked.

It was Amanji sitting in her living room.

“Amanji,” she gasped, delighted to see him.

Aman stood up, returning the fond greeting with a genuine smile. “ASR asked me to meet you and I was happy to come,” he said.

Her face paled. “Kya hua?” she asked. “Has Shyam returned?” A chill went down her spine.

“No,” Aman said, a beam on his face. “He will not see freedom for a few years.”

“Thank you, Devi Maiyya,” Khushi whispered.

“ASR wanted me to give you this document,” Aman said, handing over a brown cover with the logo of AR Designs on it.

“Yeh kya he?” she asked softly, her hands trembling as she held it. It seemed warm to her touch.

“Aap khud dekh leejiye,” Aman encouraged her to open it.

Khushi obeyed. Soon she held documents proving that she, Khushi Kumari Gupta, was the owner of Gomti Sadan.

Her hands trembled so bad that the papers fell on her lap.

“Yeh...yeh sab kya he, Amanji?” she asked, her throat blocked by a boulder of tears.

Aman sighed. “ASR did a background check on you before he hired you to work from his home. He knew that your family had placed Gomti Sadan on sale. He wanted to help you out. So as soon as Shyam was caught, he asked me to effect the purchase. I did it through our agents. ASR then transferred the property to you.”

“Kyon?” she asked, her voice shaking as much as her body was.

“He never wanted the house. He bought it for you,” Aman explained.

“Kyon?” Khushi asked again.

Aman looked away with a smile. “Maybe you can ask him when you meet him. He may have the answer to your question,” he said cryptically.

Buaji and Garima joined them.

“Suniye, our Khussi will not be working again,” Garima said.

“Yes, Nandkisore. If you have come to offer her a job, she will not take it,” buaji asserted.

Aman studied the two ladies silently.

“Today a boy is coming to see her in the evening. We are hoping to have both our daughters marry into the same family,” Garima said.

“He has a textile shop in Lucknow,” buaji boasted. “You may have heard of it, Sinha Garments.”

“Yes, I have,” Aman lied after a glance at Khushi’s unhappy face and swollen eyelids. “Khushiji, you are so lucky to find such a wealthy family. Who is the prospective groom?” What was wrong with this rotten family? Couldn’t they see that Khushiji didn’t want to marry this boy? Aman marvelled at the blindness of the two ladies.

“Chunky Sinha, Sinhaji’s younger son,” Garima said, smiling away.

“They are coming to see Khushiji this evening?” Aman made sure his facts were correct.

“Yes, at five,” buaji confirmed.

“Badhayi ho, Khushiji,” Aman wished, standing up to leave. “I am sure they will love you when they meet you. Any family will consider themselves lucky to have such a guni bahu.”

Garima and buaji beamed.

Aman took his leave. As soon as he entered his car, he called ASR.

                                                              ***

The Sinhas were in the living room, partaking of delicacies the Gupta ladies had made and chatting away comfortably. The Sinhas were waxing eloquent about how lucky Khushi was for their son as Chunky had bagged a huge order that very noon.

The Guptas smiled uneasily, unsure how Khushi could be persuaded to say yes.

“Aren’t the girls ready, Madhumatiji?” Mrs. Sinha asked. “We are eager to see them, especially Khussi.”

“I will call them, Nandkisore. They are getting ready,” buaji said, getting up from her chair.

She had taken no more than one step towards Khushi’s bedroom when a stern voice sounded at the open door.

“Does Khushi Kumari Gupta live here?” ASR asked.

All turned to gape at the dashing man in expensive but formal clothes, standing in the doorway.

“Kaun ho, Nandkisore?” buaji was the first to respond.

“That’s immaterial,” ASR declared. “Where is Khushi?”

“Yeh kaisi badtameezi he,” Mr. Sinha protested. “Walking into a house and asking for our bahu?”

“Your bahu?” ASR’s voice was sardonic. His derisive gaze rested on the plump man as he asked, “When did Khushi marry your son?”

Mr. Sinha blustered, “We have come to see her. Everything has been fixed. Even the dates have been finalised. Aap kaun ho?”

“Did Khushi agree to marry your son?” ASR asked, one amused brow in the air.

“No,” Mr. Sinha replied uneasily, “but she will. The astrologer has said that she is very lucky for him.” He turned to look at his son, Chunky who nodded in agreement.

ASR smiled at them in pity and called loudly, “Khushi!”

In the perfect silence that followed, all heard a thud as Khushi’s stool toppled over when she stood up in haste. Then they heard the sound of her anklets as she ran to the door of her bedroom. All heard her bedroom door open with a loud click. Then they heard her anklets as she ran into the living room.

All looked at the vision of loveliness Khushi was in her pink lehenga. Her hair was unbound. One ear had an earring. The pair was in her hand. Her neck was bare of jewellery. So were her arms. The dupatta wasn’t pinned to her blouse or lehenga and hung from one shoulder. Clearly she had been in the process of dressing up when Arnav called.

Payal followed her and stood staring at the scene unfolding before her eyes, as befuddled as the Guptas and the Sinhas.

“Ee kaa ho raha he, Nandkisore?” buaji thundered.

“Khushi, do you want to marry Chunky Sinha?” ASR asked quietly, his molten chocolate eyes resting on her lovingly.

“No,” Khushi said bluntly.

The Sinhas and the Guptas gasped.

“Khushi, I need your help. Will you come with me?” ASR asked, holding out one hand.

“Yes,” Khushi said unequivocally, not placing any conditions or asking questions. She placed her hand in his and his fingers closed around hers, keeping her warm and secure in his hold.

“Who are you?” Sasi Gupta asked haltingly.

“Arnav Singh Raizada,” ASR said simply. “I intend to marry Khushi if she will have me.”

All stared at him in shock, especially Khushi and Chunky Sinha.

“You want to marry me, Arnavji?” Khushi asked softly.

“As early as possible. Will you marry me, Khushi?” he asked directly.

“Yes,” she replied, not used to playing coy. “But I am an orphan,” she admitted. She didn’t want him to be fooled into thinking she had a family that cared for her.

“You were an orphan. Now you have my family to love you. Nani, mami, mama and Akash were ready to come here and get you. I had to stop them,” he said, smiling into her eyes.

Khushi beamed at him. Maybe miracles did happen. Maybe she would finally have a home and a family.

“Khussi, go inside,” buaji ordered.

Arnav tightened his hold on Khushi’s hand and she stood still.

Garima said in anger and disgust, “Khussi, you have put us to shame. I expected better of you.”

 “I want to marry Arnavji, buaji, amma,” Khushi replied quietly. “I am sorry to disappoint you, but I told you many times that I don’t wish to marry Chunky Sinha.”

“We took you in and you are repaying us with ingratitude?” buaji shouted. “We should have let you go to an orphanage. They would have beaten this arrogance out of you. Go inside.”

Khushi stood her ground.

Buaji exploded, “You ungrateful wretch! How dare you destroy Payaliya’s future? If you go with this man, you have no place in our family anymore.”

Before Khushi could respond, Arnav turned to look at Chunky Sinha. “Chunky Sinha of Sinha Garments?” he asked.

Chunky stood up. “Yes, sir,” he stammered.

“You run it with your brother, Bunty?” ASR asked.

“Yes, sir,” Chunky replied, pointing to his brother.

“Today at noon you signed a contract with AR Designs that is very profitable to you,” ASR said. “The deal stands if your brother marries Payal and Khushi marries me.”

Chunky swallowed hard. He looked at his brother who nodded agreement.

“Yes, sir,” Chunky said.

“Who are you?” buaji asked Arnav, unsettled at the turn of events.

“Arnav Singh Raizada, owner of AR Designs,” Chunky replied, awe coloring his words.

ASR had no time for this nonsense. He took the earring from Khushi’s hand and put it in his pocket. Then he told her, “Khushi, pack your belongings.”

Her fingers tightened around his hand.

He said, “Take me to your room.”

They went to her room together.

He asked her, “Do you need to take clothes? Everything you left behind is still there at home.”

“No, I don’t need clothes,” Khushi said.

“These birds and stars hanging over the bed?” he asked.

“I no longer need them,” Khushi replied tearfully. “I just need my amma’s jewellery.”

“Take them,” ASR said.

Khushi took an antique jewellery box from her almirah.

“And their photo,” she said.

ASR took the box from her, freeing her to unearth the framed photo from the depths of her almirah. There was no place for her dead parents on the walls of buaji's house.

He looked at the black and white photo for a moment and then said quietly, “We can hang this in the living room. It needn’t be hidden away any longer.”

Tears ran down Khushi’s cheeks.

“Don’t cry, Khushi,” he whispered. “I can take anything but your tears.”

Khushi dried her cheeks. "I am not crying, Arnavji," she mumbled.

“Chalein?” he asked.

She nodded.

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