6. OS 21. An Unwilling Passion (8,9)

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.