Part
8
ASR thought
long and hard and came to a difficult conclusion. The only thing that could
destabilize Khushi was affection...and gratitude and all sorts of emotional
garbage that he steered clear of when others displayed it as he had enough of
his own to live through.
And
unfortunately for her, Khushi liked him, the corporate blood-sucking vampire
who left his opponents gasping by the time he was done with them.
He took a
deep breath. This was war and war meant no rules, no scruples. Not that he was
overly concerned about his enemy’s well-being.
Yes, he would
capitalize on her weakness for him.
The next
night, ASR visited Khushi’s shed.
She looked
wan. He could detect dark circles under her eyes.
“Khushi?” he
called.
She looked up
from the jalebis she was arranging in a carton and her face lit up. Her eyes
shone as she exclaimed, “Arnavji?”
“I need to
speak to you…in private,” he said.
“Ji,” she
replied, leaving the jalebis and hurrying to his side. Payal moved away,
curious, but too well-mannered to pry.
“Kya hua,
Arnavji? Do you need help?” Khushi asked.
ASR looked
into her earnest hazel eyes and had to draw in a deep breath before answering.
“Khushi, we
have known each other for some time now,” he began.
“Ji, a few
weeks,” she agreed.
“I
was…err…disturbed by what you told me about your father and the loan. It is not
right that you should be worried about money when I can easily afford to take
care of it,” he offered.
She blinked.
Incomprehension spread across her features.
“Why should
you?” she asked in genuine astonishment.
ASR felt this
throat tightening as he said the words he had never said to anyone. “Because
you are my friend.”
As he watched
in acute discomfort, her beautiful eyes filled with grateful tears.
‘Yes,’ he
revelled in his victory. ‘She will take money from me now!’ No more slaving
away in this hot shed for her and he could finally exact revenge on her aunt.
Khushi dried
her cheeks with a sniff. “You are so kind,” she whispered. “So good. Aur aap
hamein dost samajhte hein?” She shook her head in disbelief. “I have never had
a friend like you before.”
Had Aman been
fortunate enough to hear Khushi’s words, he would have assured her that she had
missed out on nothing.
ASR waited
for her to ask for money.
But she was too
busy feeling extreme gladness and ecstasy at being considered Arnavji’s dost.
ASR asked
with an inward sigh, “How much do you need?”
Khushi,
jolted out of her euphoria, mumbled, “Ji?”
“How much
money do you need?” he repeated. “I can give you a cheque. You can cash it
tomorrow.” ‘Tell me, tell me,’ he urged silently.
Khushi shook
her head in disbelief. “Aap ko kya ho gaya he?” she asked with a frown. “Why
should you give me money? You are an employee working hard to earn his living.
How can you be so wasteful as to throw away your savings on someone you met a
few weeks ago?” she chided.
He blinked.
He couldn’t remember the last time someone had reprimanded him. And she was
angry about him wanting to spend money on her?
“It is late.
Aap jaake so jayiye. When you wake up, such sanka notions will have left your
bheja. Jaayiye, mere dost,” she insisted with a smile.
“Khushi,” he
tried to protest.
A look of
wonder dawned on her face.
“Arnavji, do
you think sankaness is contagious?” she asked in all seriousness.
“What the!”
“Buaji calls me
Sanka Devi. I think my craziness has spread to you and you have become Sanka
Dev,” she said with a straight face.
Arnav’s lips
twisted in a wry smile.
“This is what
you get when you become Khushi Kumari Gupta’s friend,” she said with a laugh
before leaving him.
***
He had to
persist, he told himself. She would crack. All people had their price and
Khushi too could be bought. Maybe her price was higher than most, maybe it was
different than most. But she was bikau. All were. It would just take some time.
He had ample
time, he told himself. There was no real hurry to return to Delhi. He could
keep tabs on his office from Lucknow and Aman kept him in the loop. Lightning
visits to the office had taken care of pressing work. And then were Akash and
mama who called him daily. Yes, he had time. He needed
to use that time wisely. Follow her wherever she goes, Arnav Singh Raizada, he
told himself. Make your presence felt. Keep offering her money till she, hypnotized
by the easy way out, gives in. The sleepless nights, the never-ending work
and the toil would corrode her idealism one day and drop her right into his lap.
***
Khushi was
surprised to see him at the temple the next morning, but she was so full of
news that it didn’t strike her odd that her reclusive friend was visiting Devi
Maiyya.
“Arnavji!
Aap? Mere saath aayiye na? I want to talk to you,” she squealed before tugging him to sit
on a bench in the temple premises.
He looked at
the spot on his arm she had clutched. Why did his skin feel a burn?
“You are very
lucky for us, especially for me,” she enthused, her eyes shining. “You said you
are my dost last night aur pata he kya hua? Today morning babuji received a
phone call from Agarwalji. He wants to bring his wife and son to visit us
today.”
ASR frowned.
Where had this abomination sprung from? “Why?” was all he replied.
“He wants his
son to marry jiji,” Khushi trilled. “You can imagine how happy we are.”
ASR could
only stare at her.
“No dowry, no
gifts. They want a quick wedding. He is an only son and well-employed. Aur sab
se achi baat, jiji will be staying in Lucknow after marriage. She can continue
working in our shop after shaadi,” Khushi was incandescent with joy. “Arnavji, this
is like a miracle. Sab kuch sahi ho raha he. Everything that was wrong in our
lives is slowly being set to rights. Devi Maiyya has decided to shower us with
her blessings. Aap ko pata he, I couldn’t believe this when babuji told me in
the morning.”
ASR too couldn’t
believe his ears.
“Jiji is
happy too as the shaadi won’t strain babuji too much financially and she can be here with
us, working at Satwik Mishtan Bhandhar even after shaadi,” Khushi confessed
happily.
ASR fumed as
his plans went up in fire and the fumes hurt his nostrils and choked him.
***
Part 9
“Find out
everything you can about Agarwal. Every bloody thing. Every single detail, even
the toothpaste he uses,” ASR growled at Aman.
“Sir?
Agarwal? Who?” Aman asked, confused.
ASR shook his
head to clear it. “The man who wants his son to marry Payal, Khushi’s sister.
He is coming with his family to visit the Guptas today.”
“It will be
done, sir,” Aman replied quietly, understanding ASR’s panic.
***
ASR watched
Khushi running about in the courtyard of Gomti Sadan with frequent trips to the
shed to get everything ready for the visitors in the evening.
“Khussi,”
buaji called.
“Haan, buaji?”
asked Khushi.
“Bring the
jalebi in, Nandkisore. And the peda. I will arrange them on trays,” buaji said,
dragging the cot in the courtyard to a side.
“Ji, buaji,”
Khushi replied, running to the shed to emerge from it with a plate filled with
sweets.
“Sanka Devi,
suno,” buaji said. “Change the covers of the cushions in the living room.”
“Ji, buaji.”
“Suno,
Nandkisore,” buaji continued. “Stay with your jiji when it is time for her to
dress.”
“Of course, buaji,” Khushi replied even as she cleared the courtyard of big vessels set out to dry.
“Oo kaa he,
bitiya, if the boy likes Payaliya and she likes him, we may have the shaadi within a
week or so.” Buaji’s face fell. “We may not get time to get used to the fact
that she is leaving us.”
Khushi
blinked back her tears and put on a smile for buaji’s sake. “Buaji, don’t be
sad. I will be here with you always,” she reassured her aunt. “Hamesha.”
Buaji dried
her eyes and teased, “Parmeswari, are you saying that I will have to bear you
till I die? Hai Re Nandkisore!”
“Yes!” Khushi
said with emphasis. “And you are not going to die anytime soon. Your Nandkisore
likes his peace in heaven. Will He be so foolish as to call you there?”
“Hai Re
Nandkisore! This girl!” buaji exclaimed, throwing a jalebi at Khushi who caught
it and popped it into her mouth. She then danced her way to buaji and hugged
her so tight that the middle-aged lady cried out for help.
ASR’s lips twisted
in a smile as he watched Khushi’s antics. Her zest for life was almost
contagious, he mused.
***
Arnav watched
the Agarwals being greeted by the Guptas. The senior Agarwal was in a sherwani,
the junior in formal wear and the mother was wearing a rich sari in red.
ASR’s eyes
fell on the decorations. The chains of marigold adorning the house swayed in
the breeze and the rangoli that Khushi and Payal had made in the courtyard
gleamed in the evening light.
As he watched, a marigold flower fell from a
chain and landed near the bright green, orange and red of the peacock rangoli.
His phone
rang.
Aman.
“Yes?” he
asked.
“Senior
Agarwal runs a textile shop in one of the markets of Lucknow. The son got a job
three months back. He saw Payal at the market and asked his father to approach
the Guptas,” Aman said.
“No dowry,
wants immediate shaadi,” mused ASR.
“Just like
our story,” Aman added. “For Khushi.”
“Yes,” ASR
concurred. A moment later, he said, “I don’t like it.”
“Sir?” Aman
asked.
“Dig deep,”
was all he said.
“Yes, sir,”
Aman agreed. ASR’s intuition was always spot on.
***
A couple of
hours later, ASR went to open the door in response to the incessant banging and
saw Khushi standing there with a heavy tray balanced against her chest and
supported by one arm.
He quickly
took it from her.
She beamed.
“Arnavji, sab
kuch theek ho gaya,” she said with a sigh of relief. Brushing past him, she stepped
into the house and sank into a chair.
ASR left the
tray on a side table and sat down in another chair, taking care to leave the
door open.
“I can’t tell
you how grateful I am to Devi Maiyya. She will get a big plate of jalebis made in
pure desi ghee for this kindness,” she said, smiling away. “The boy liked jiji
and she agreed to the shaadi.”
“Oh,” ASR
murmured.
“Arnavji,
they don’t want any dowry and they want the shaadi done simply and at the
earliest. When babuji said he needed time to invite our relations staying in
Kanpur and Varanasi, they said they are in a hurry and want the wedding arranged
in a week’s time. They even phoned up their astrologer while at our house and
fixed a date for the wedding. It is next Thursday, Arnavji, and you are
invited. Babuji and amma will come to invite you formally, but I wanted to
invite you first because you are my dost, my khaas dost, my special friend.”
Khushi looked weary, but she was smiling away.
He nodded
with difficulty.
She stood up
slowly, her whole body aching after hours of heavy-duty lifting and cooking. Now
she had to put in a few hours in the shed for neither the sweets nor their
clients would wait for her to take a power nap. “Hum chalte hein, Arnavji.
Aap please khaa leejiye. I will get the tray tomorrow,” she said, turning to
leave.
“What is this?” he asked looking down at the tray.
“Dinner,” she
said with a smile, “with three types of sweets made by the one and only Khushi
Kumari Gupta of Lucknow.”
He swallowed
hard. Each time she had brought him sweets, he had dumped them in the dustbin.
When she had offered him sweet tea at the shed, he had sipped it once and left the
rest without mentioning that he was diabetic. He hadn’t wanted to share
personal information with her then. But now, it felt cruel to throw food she
had prepared in the dumpster.
“I am diabetic,”
he blurted out.
“Ji?” she
asked with a frown. “Shakkar ki beemari?”
“Yes.”
Her eyes
filled with sympathetic tears. “You can’t eat sweets? Out of politeness, you have
been putting up with me each time I brought sweets for you. Arnavji, aap kitne
ache ho.”
For the first
time in his life, Arnav felt lower than a worm. His self-hate increased
exponentially till he was in danger of being eclipsed by it. He couldn’t make a
sound as she smiled sympathetically at him and left.
One hour
later, as he dragged himself to the window of his room, he could see smoke
coming from the chimney of the shed. Khushi was cooking.
