14. OS 21. An Unwilling Passion (Part 18)

Part 18

The next day ASR’s eyes stole looks at his phone throughout meetings.

Aman and Akash noticed his preoccupation and hid smiles.

It was late night when she called.

“Arnavji, sorry, sorry, lakhon sorry, aaj bhi late hui,” she apologised. “There was a huge order. Babuji is still at the hospital and so jiji and I had to do the cooking and billing and ensure the delivery was on time.”

“Khushi, why do you have to work so hard?” he remonstrated. He had given a minor fortune to Garima so that Khushi could take it easy.

“Our Satwik Mishtan Bhandar was started by babuji’s babuji’s babuji. Making sweets is our khandaani pasha and when babuji reaches home, the first question he will ask is about the state of our shop. But things are not as difficult as they were before, Arnavji. You saw to it. The money you gave amma has made our lives much easier,” she confessed easily.

“Good,” Arnav said before he coughed once.

“Kya hua?” Khushi asked.

“Nothing,” he said with a small smile.

“Are you sure you are not sick?” she asked, a ferocious frown on her face.

“I am perfectly fine,” he replied, soaking up her concern like a lonely, dry sponge dropped in a bucket of water.

                                                           ***

“Arnavji, babuji came home today,” Khushi exclaimed in joy.

Arnav sighed in relief, his hand covering his eyes. His head hurt like hell and his throat felt as though he had swallowed a prickly bush.

“He is much better, almost normal,” she continued.

“Good,” Arnav said, his voice sounding unlike his.

“Kya hua?” she asked with a frown.

“Just a headache,” he replied.

“You work too hard, Arnavji,” she castigated him. “You should take more rest. Aap ghar jaake so jayiye na?”

That suggestion found favour with him. He felt as though a hundred bands were playing dhol and cymbals with vengeance inside his head, all competing for a world championship.

“I will.”

                                                         ***

 

She called again at night, but he didn’t pick up the phone.

Was he too sick to answer his phone? Big tears formed in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

“Why are you crying, Khussi?” Payal asked.

“Arnavji is sick,” Khushi wept. “He didn’t take my call.”

“He must have some other work to do, Khussi,” Payal admonished her. “Don’t read meanings into his actions.”

“Arnavji would never ignore my call, not even if he were very busy. He always answers on the second ring. Unhe kuch hua he, jiji. Hamein pata he. He Devi Maiyya, please take care of him. He works too hard and he is sick.”

Payal shook her head in helplessness and went back to making laddoo, her eyes still on a weeping Khushi. A moment later, an idea struck her. “Khussi, we have Akashji’s number. Why don’t I call him to find out if his brother is really ill?”

Khushi nodded, still sobbing.

                                                               ***

Akash answered his phone, feeling as though a cloud of flowers had burst over his head when he heard Payal’s voice.

“Payalji?” he almost squealed in excitement.

Payal blushed. “Err...Akashji, are you at office?”

“Yes,” he replied. “But I am not busy. I have time to talk.” He made it clear that he was available to her.

Payal confessed, “Woh kya he, Akashji, Khussi called Arnavji, but he didn’t answer the phone.” Her eyes fell on Khushi's devastated face as she continued, “Is he fine? Matlab, Khussi was worried.”

Akash smiled. “He is feeling under the weather. He is at home, taking rest. I made sure his phone is on mute before I left. I am sure he didn’t see the call.”

Payal smiled. “Khushi was upset. I will let her know. Hum phone rekte hein,” she said.

“No, Payalji,” Akash uttered hastily. “Please hold on. How are you?”

“Hum theek hein,” she answered.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asked. “If Khushiji can call bhai, why couldn’t you call me?”

Payal’s lips trembled in a smile as she said softly, “You could call me too. Hum chalte hein.” She cut the call.

Payal turned to Khushi. “He is not well and is taking rest at home. Akashji muted the volume of his phone. And here is a nautanki crying her eyes out for a man sleeping in his house in Delhi.”

Khushi sniffed and walked away to her room.

Payal rolled her eyes.

                                                            ***

At dinner that night, Garima, Sasi and buaji looked askance at Khushi’s ashen face and the uneaten food on her plate.

“Kaa hua, bitiya?” Sasi asked slowly.

“Kuch nahi, babuji,” Khushi murmured.

Garima’s worry increased exponentially as she remembered Khushi gawping at the haveli next door and weeping.

Buaji set down her glass with a loud thud and asked in her no-nonsense way. “Ab kaa hua, Nandkisore? All our troubles are over and we should be happy. Why is your face like a kachumber?”

“Arnavji is sick,” Khushi mumbled through her tears.

“Hein?” buaji asked. “Arnavji? Oo kaun,  our neighbour who came for revenge?” She turned to look at Garima. “Ee sab kaa ho raha he, Nandkisore?”

“Don’t ask, jiji,” Garima buried her head in her hands.

“Khussi?” Sasi asked.

“Arnavji is so nice, babuji. He took you to the hospital at midnight and paid for one whole month. Even when he thought he hated us, he did us only favours. Now he has left Lucknow and I miss him so much,” Khushi wept.

Buaji and Sasi stared at her, their eyes wide. Payal and Garima grimaced.

“Stop your nautanki, Sanka Devi, this minute or only Nandkisore knows what I will do to you to teach you some sanskaar,” buaji thundered.

Khushi paid her no mind. “I don’t want sanskaar, buaji. I only want my Arnavji,” she wept.

“Your Arnavji?” Sasi asked, throwing an alarmed glance at Garima. “Bitiya, what are you talking about?”

“Pagal he puri, Parmeswari,” buaji declared.

“I like him very much, babuji. He is my dost, my khaas dost.” Khushi was adamant.

“Khussi,” Garima tried. “Bitiya, woh kahan aur hum kahan? He gave us a huge amount of money without even a second thought and we are middle-class people who count each paisa before spending it. The Raizadas are as good as royalty in Lucknow and the Malliks are old money. Hum thehre halwai.”

“Arnavji knew who I was when he became friends with me. If it mattered to him that I am poor and a halwai, he wouldn’t have called me his dost,” Khushi insisted. “And now he is ill.”

“That is a surprise, Nandkisore,” buaji commented sarcastically. “His tabeeyat should have improved after he escaped the company of this fool.”

The others had to smile. Khushi got up with a huff and walked away to her room to worry in private.

                                                            ***

Khushi called repeatedly and it was early morning when she finally got hold of Arnav.

“Khushi?” he asked, or croaked.

“Aap theek ho?” she asked immediately.

He pressed his forehead with his fingers, trying to make the pain go away, at least enough to permit him to talk to her.

“Not well, Khushi,” he managed to murmur.

“Bukhar he?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Headache?”

“Yes,” he sighed and then coughed.

“Your body feels as though a pehelwan ne aapki dhulai ki he?” she inquired.

“Oh, yes,” he muttered in a heartfelt manner.

A tear slipped down Khushi’s cheek.

“Don’t cry, Khushi,” he said before a paroxysm of coughing made talking impossible. The phone fell from his hand to the bed.

Anjali knocked on the door and entered his room.

“Chotey, I am calling the doctor. This can’t go on. You look terrible,” she said frantically before dialing their family doctor.

Khushi sat for a long moment, the phone in her hands, silent tears wetting her cheeks. Then she stood up and with a sniff of determination, began to pack her bags.

                                                                ***

“Hein?” buaji asked, looking at a Khushi standing in the living room with a packed bag. “Kahan jaa rahi ho, Nandkisore, boriya bistar uddake?”

“Dilli,” came the answer.

“Sasi babua, Garima, Payaliya, aa jao, jaldi. Tanik dekho tumri Parmeswari kaa karne jaa rahi he! Hai re Nandkisore! Naak katwaa degi ye ladki,” buaji hollered.

All came rushing to the room to find Khushi standing all ready to leave and a buaji holding her back by tugging on her arm. Tears trembled on Khushi’s lashes and her cheeks were wet.

“Yeh ho kya raha he?” Sasi asked.

“Your sanki bitiya is going to meet her ghaasi wala piya in Dilli, Hai re Nandkisore!” buaji declared.

“What?” Sasi exclaimed. “Khussi?”

“I am going to Dilli, babuji. My Arnavji is very ill. I have to see him,” Khushi stated, her voice firm even through the tears.

“Are you a doctor, Khussi?” Garima asked angrily. “What help can you give a man who is ill?”

“She is not a doctor, Garima, but a kada, Nandkisore!” buaji made her mind clear. “The moment he sees her, his bukhar uttar jayega.”

“I will take care of him,” Khushi insisted. “I will make sure that he is alright.”

“Hai re Nandkisore!” Buaji hit her forehead with her hand. “He has a family to look after him. He doesn’t need a fool from Lucknow to travel all the way to Dilli to pester him.”

“I am going,” Khushi said, lifting her bag to walk out of the house.

“Do you have money with you?” Sasi asked.

Khushi paused. “No,” she admitted.

“Were you planning to sprout wings and fly to Dilli?” Garima asked, her eyes wild with wonder. “Payaliya’s papa, she is mad, bilkul sanki.”

Sasi took a deep breath. “Khussi bitiya, will you listen to reason and stay here?” he asked.

“No, babuji. I have to go to Arnavji,” Khushi insisted. "I can't and won't stay away from him for one more day."

Buaji hit her temple and Garima opened her mouth to harangue Khushi, but Sasi beat her to it.

“To jao,” he said. “Jee lo apni zindagi.”

The whole family stared at him.

“Sasi babua, you are not Simran’s father. You are the babuji of one Sanka Devi who is going to go to Dilli to cut our naak by pushing her way into a poor boy’s life whether he wants it or not! Hai re Nandkisore!” buaji declared.

Sasi said quietly, “He has the right to throw her out. Jiji, go with her.”

“Hein?” buaji exclaimed.

“I will go with Khussi,” Payal offered, not altogether altruistically.

“Go,” Sasi permitted.

                                                          ***

HP opened the door cautiously, warned by the loud banging on it.

There stood a beautiful girl, a bag at her feet.

“Where is Arnavji?” she asked.

“A..Arnav bhaiyya?” HP asked carefully. Why would a girl ask for him? Even his family didn’t dare to talk to him, his employees kept out of his way as far as possible and here was a girl seeking him out.

“Err...may we meet him?” Payal asked diffidently.

It was then that HP saw her and buaji.

Before he could reply, Anjali, mami, and nani joined him. HP heaved a sigh of relief. If Arnav bhaiyya scared the girl to death, it was upon their collective heads.

“Yes?” nani asked. “How many we help you?”

Buaji blushed.

Payal looked extremely uncomfortable. Barging into the homes of strangers and asking after their grandson was no easy task.

“I want to see Arnavji,” Khushi answered.

“Hello Hi Bye Bye!” mami whispered. “Who?”

Nani and Anjali stared at her as though she had a pair of horns growing on her head.

“Arnavji. He is sick. Humein milna he unse. Where is he?” she asked, her eyes going to the stairs she could see behind them.

Akash joined them. “Khushiji! Payalji! You are here!” he exclaimed, his face suffused with happiness.

Mami, Anjali and nani gasped. “You are Khussi?” nani asked.

Khushi nodded and turned to Akash, “Where is Arnavji?”

“Go up the stairs. Third room,” Akash directed her.

The ladies watched her run up the steps.

Buaji cleared her throat and said apologetically, “Maaf keejiyega, Nandkisore, we...”

Nani literally clutched her arm and tugged her into the house. “Maaf maangne ki kauno zaroorat naahi he. Please come in.”

Mami and Anjali nodded vigorously in agreement.

“Is this Payal?” Anjali asked on their way into the living room.

“Yes, Nandkisore. But how do you know us?” buaji asked in wonder.

“Akash told us everything,” Anjali explained while literally pushing buaji and Payal into chairs.

Payal blushed.

Nani, mami and Anjali smiled at her bashfulness.

“This is our buaji,” Payal introduced her to Akash, who in turn introduced his family to them.

The six of them got on like fire and the Raizadas were careful not to mention Khushi. It was a miracle that Arnav was interested in a girl and the ninth wonder of this world that Khushi was crazy about him, so crazy that she was willing to leave behind her maan, sammaan, sanskaar and all etiquette to make him hers. They wished her luck and silently prayed for her success.

                                                               ***

Khushi ran up the steps and located the room that Akash had indicated. She knocked carefully, unwilling to disturb him, but there was no response.

She slowly opened the door and walked in to see Arnav in his bed, fast asleep.

Tears filled her eyes at the sight of his unshaven face, the bruised look under his eyes, and the way his hair flopped over his temple.

She slowly walked up to him and sat on the bed by his side. Too weak with relief that she was in the same room with him, she could only sit there gazing at him.

He stirred restlessly.

She gulped down a sob.

He opened his eyes.

Khushi was sitting by him. He smiled, certain that it was a dream.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, her eyes red from continuous weeping.

He frowned. Why was she crying in his dream? “Khushi, don’t cry,” he admonished.

She tried to dry her face, but new tears took the place of old ones with disturbing rapidity.

He sat up and lifted his hand to touch her wet cheek. His fingers touched the silky soft skin of her plump cheek and for a second, he stilled.

“Arnavji.”

His ears perked up. Her sweet voice.

“Khushi? Yahan? Khushi?” He couldn’t believe his eyes or ears. This wasn’t a dream?

He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. Khushi, not to be backward, threw her arms around his shoulders and caught him a close embrace.

A few moments later, he regained his senses and remembered that he was supposed to save her from himself and tried to loosen his hold on her, but her arms tightened and he stayed in her hug.

Many minutes later, she slowly released him and he sat back.

“Kya haal banake rakha he,” she lamented softly. “You should take care of yourself, Arnavji. Itna saara kaam and upar se shakkar ki beemari. Uske saath bukhar.”

“I am fine, Khushi,” he murmured. His fingers smoothed a stray strand of her hair from her cheek to lie obediently behind her ear against his command to his fingers to stop loving her. The strand of hair, in true Khushi style, escaped from behind her ear and fell against her cheek again.

He smiled.

Khushi was in his room...in Delhi. The smile vanished.

“Did you come alone?” he asked. “Khushi, how could you! Khushi, the danger...”

“Buaji and jiji are downstairs,” Khushi replied with a smile.

The fog blew away and clarity set in. Khushi had left Lucknow and come to Delhi to see him because he was sick. Her tears and her hug meant she returned his regard.

His heart clenched.  

Now he had to send her away.

He jumped out of bed.

“Khushi, you shouldn’t have come here,” he said, his head turned away.

“I wanted to see you,” she replied comfortably.

He drew in a deep breath.

“Khushi, I am a bachelor. You shouldn’t be frequenting my house,” he tried.

“I don’t care about all that, Arnavji,” she replied, her expression mulish.

“I do,” he replied. “Khushi, we met in Lucknow. Whatever...I mean, the acquaintance we had...”

“Dosti,” she insisted.

He shrugged, his body and face turned away from her. “Whatever, jo kuch bhi tha...is over. Why did you come to Delhi?”

“Because I like you very much and miss you every second of every day,” she admitted openly. She had nothing to hide. “Arnavji, something happens to make me laugh and I turn to share it with you and you aren’t there. I don’t want to spend my life missing you.”

Arnav felt a khanjar pierce his heart, slowly, taking its sweet time. He bled drop by drop, helpless.

“Khushi, I come from bad stock. You know my history. Liars, cheats, immoral lechers...I am their descendant. Get away from me. Go away. Leave me alone.” He laid down the cards. “Please.”

“No. I don’t care about what your father or uncle did. I care only about you. I will never leave you, Arnavji,” she proclaimed. “And you are nothing like them. Nothing. If you talk of them and yourself in the same breath, I promise you, Arnavji, Devi Maiyya ki kasam, I will fight with you. You had reason to believe we were your enemies and you came to take revenge on us, but you still helped us. There is so much goodness inside you, Arnavji. I have seen it; I have felt it. I will not let anyone discount your sharaafath and your neki, not even you. Isliye khabardaar.”

“Khushi,” he made a last-ditch attempt. “I don’t wish to marry.”

“Theke he. Hum aapke saath rehenge, yahan. You don’t have to marry me, Arnavji, till you trust me, till you are sure that I will never hurt you like your father hurt your mother,” she stated, throwing away her reputation and her honour with a lavish hand.

He couldn’t speak through the lump in his throat.

When he could manage to find his voice, he raged, “How dare you demean yourself! You will shame yourself and your family for me? Your reputation! Your place in your community! What will your family say? How dare you value yourself so little?”

“I love you more than any of these things, Arnavji,” she confessed quietly. Her red-rimmed eyes were steady as they met his.

“Khushi...you shouldn’t,” he protested half-heartedly.

“I will,” she stated.

“Khushi.” It was a whisper of need and hope and a hundred other things that only Khushi could hear.

She ran to him and hugged him. “I will never leave you, Arnavji. We will be together, hamesha.”

He pulled her as close as he could get her and buried his face in her throat. “Hamesha,” he whispered.

There was a knock on the door before it opened to reveal the Raizadas, Payal and buaji.

Arnav and Khushi had their arms around each other and their family members beamed. Khushi flushed at this late moment.

“Bhai, shall we have your and Khushiji’s and mine and Payal’s wedding on the same date?” Akash asked.

Arnav looked down into the love-filled eyes of his beloved and nodded. He added, “Make it fast.”

All laughed. Akash hugged Arnav.

THE END

Darlings, I won’t be starting a new story anytime soon. I need some time off. Enjoy the three blogs in the meantime and if I do return to this blog, you will get notifications.

It has been a lovely journey so far. Heartfelt thanks to all my friends who stood by me when I sold my books and supported me when readers criticized me.

Love,

Smita