7. OS 21. An Unwilling Passion (Part 11)

Part 11

Arnav made his slow way to Gomti Sadan for the wedding, unwilling to attend the function at the house of his enemy, but forced to attend the event by a nagging sense that something momentous was about to happen.

He saw Khushi before she saw him. Dressed in a pink and green lehenga studded with stones, she looked divine. He had to compose himself before approaching her.

“Arnavji!” Khushi greeted him with a wide smile, delighted that he had appeared. “Aap aa gaye? Sachi?”

ASR nodded. Her gorgeousness was heightened by proximity and he was having a tough time dealing with her impact on his senses.

“Aayiye na? Baitiye!” She found him a seat. “You know babuji and jiji. Let me introduce you to my amma and buaji.”

Arnav swallowed hard. “Maybe later,” he said, his voice husky. “They must be busy with the wedding.”

Khushi smiled widely. “You are right. Aur waise bhi aap kahan bhaage jaa rahe ho? I will introduce you to them after the shaadi.”

ASR managed to nod.

“Khussi!” came a call.

She left unwillingly, turning back to look at him once more. He looked delicious even though he was dressed in his usual formal clothes, woh bhi in black. She took a deep breath filled with joy. Arnavji was at her home and in her vicinity. Her heart was content. Her joy in her jiji’s shaadi increased manifold. “Mera piya ghar aaya, o Ramji...,” she sung under her breath.

He sat, watching the wedding preparations, uneasy.

His disquiet increased as he saw a beautiful middle-aged woman with the pallu covering her head. She was talking to Khushi.

Garima. The bane of his existence. His nemesis.

His eyes ran over her, hatred filling his head and heart till he could see only red. His mama’s tears, her pain, the shot fired in the library, his mama’s lifeless body, the blood splattered on the walls and floor of the library...Hurtful images rushed through his head.

Khushi came rushing back to him with a tray of drinks and offered him one. 

“Leejiya na, Arnavji,” she urged, a loving smile on her lips.

He looked up at her, his eyes filled with rage and disgust.

Her smile faltered. “K..kya hua, Arnavji?” she whispered.

Her bewilderment sent a timely warning through his head. He struggled to lower his anger to manageable proportions and muttered, “Nothing.”

Buaji called Khushi.

She forced a drink on Arnav and left, still wondering what had made Arnavji look so ferocious. Maybe he hated shaadi? Maybe some girl had betrayed Arnavji and hurt him? A sharp pain lanced her heart even as the thought of Arnavji liking another girl entered her head.

“Sanka Devi, come here. I have some work for you,” buaji said, distracting Khushi from her painful ruminations.

                                                          ***

Arnav looked at his phone. It was almost time for the wedding to start. He looked around to see Sasi Gupta look anxiously at the clock on the wall. Where were the Agarwals?

As if in answer to the silent query, Papa Agarwal entered the house.

Arnav frowned. Such a quiet entry? He thought weddings were all about horses and band baaja and dancing. Why was Papa Agarwal alone?

Sasi Gupta’s face reflected Arnav’s doubt.

Arnav watched Sasi speak to Mr. Agarwal and then leave with him through a door that led inside the house.

Arnav drew in a deep breath. Something was going to give. He was no oracle, no psychic, but his intuition ran deep and strong and he was ready to bet every rupee of the fortune he had made that something was seriously wrong. Images of his di in tears as her fiancé and his family gave up on her and walked out flashed through his head.

A few minutes later, Mr. Agarwal left the house alone.

Arnav tensed further.

The crowd that had gathered to witness the wedding began remarking on Agarwal’s presence and his departure. Some began murmuring that it was time for the wedding and that the baraat should have arrived by now.

His eyes sought Khushi. She was not to be seen.

Sasi Gupta emerged from the room in which he had been closeted with Agarwal, his face pasty.

As Arnav watched, Garima went up to her husband, a worried look on her face. Arnav saw her mouth a question to Sasi. His response was in fits and starts, but his few words were enough to drive all colour from her face. She stood by him, incredulous, shocked, stupefied.

Arnav knew in his head that he should rejoice. After all, the woman who had destroyed his parents’ marriage and killed them was facing a very difficult situation that would lower, if not destroy her and her family’s standing in her community.

But he could feel nothing. Not joy, not satisfaction, not even a smidgen of smugness. He felt blank, empty. He frowned.

As he watched, buaji came to join them. Garima leaned against the middle-aged lady, taking strength from her not inconsiderable size, as she whispered in her ear.

“Hai Re Nandkisore!” buaji exclaimed loudly.

Slowly the crowd fell silent. Someone silenced the musicians. All looked expectantly at Sasi, Garima and buaji.

Sasi stepped forward, his shaking hands clasped tight. “Maaf keejiyega,” he began, his voice low and thin. “I am sorry to invite you here for a shaadi that...that will not be happening now.” His voice died away. 

The crowd stood stunned. All they could hear was Garima’s sobs. Buaji stood with her hand on her forehead.

“Poor Payaliya,” an elderly lady sitting near Arnav murmured.

His heart clenched as di’s face appeared before his eyes. The devastation, the tears, the anguish....

“Kaa hua, Sasiji?” asked a male voice.

“They...they said they didn’t want dowry,” Sasi said wearily. “But ten minutes before the shaddi, Agarwal said I have to give him fifty lakhs or Gomti Sadan for the shaadi to happen.”

There was a loud gasp.

“The rascal!” exclaimed an elderly man.

“You are well rid of them. Thank God that you didn’t give your daughter to such a family,” another voice said.

Garima, weighed down by sobs, sat down on a step.

Buaji sat by her and tried to calm her down. “This is what Nandkisore wants, Garima. Don’t cry. Nandkisore sab theek karenge.”

“My Payaliya!” Garima wept. “What did she do to deserve this?”

Payal was Garima’s stepdaughter, Arnav knew. At least she pretended to care for her, he thought.

Khushi came into the hall, horrified at the sight of guests leaving and Garima weeping.

“Amma, kya hua?” she asked, running towards them in panic. “Babuji, where is the baraat?”

Arnav felt something die within him. He couldn’t bear to see her dreams shatter. He turned and left the house.

                                                               ***

There was perfect silence from the house next door.

Arnav sat by the window in his bedroom watching workers dismantle the mandap and other decorations. Chairs were piled high, one upon the other, ready to be taken away. The musicians had left. So had the guests and caterers. The garlands had wilted, the flowers looking sad and faded.

As he watched, a slight figure came out of the house to stand on the steps. It was Payal. Dressed in a simple salwar kameez, she watched the paraphernalia for the wedding-that-hadn’t-taken-place being slowly removed from her aangan.

Khushi came to stand behind Payal. 

He winced as he saw Khushi dry her cheeks.

 He clenched his fists, wanting to dent Agarwal’s nose. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Aman.

“Sir?” Aman asked.

Arnav looked out at the window to see Khushi leading a sobbing Payal into the house.

Fury rose within him like a tsunami. “Wipe Agarwal’s business out,” he instructed tersely.

“Yes, sir. The wedding was cancelled?” Aman asked.

 “Yes. He demanded dowry at the last moment,” ASR answered. “He should beg on the streets.”

“Yes, sir,” Aman responded quietly.

Arnav paced the length of his room. This was going to be another long night. How was Khushi holding up? His heart clenched at the thought of her grief.

                                                             ***

“Payaliya? How is she?” Sasi asked wearily.

“Resting. Khussi is with her,” Garima answered, sitting down at his feet and resting her head against his leg.

Sasi lay back in his chair, his hand resting on Garima’s head.

After a long moment of silence, Sasi said slowly, “I thought they were good people, sanskaari. My poor bacchii...her future...:

Garima wept silently.

“Maybe I should have given in...” Sasi mused, his heart filled with sorrow. “Maybe I held my pride dearer than my Payaliya’s future.”

Garima’s hold on his leg tightened as she wept harder.