22. OS 19. His Elusive Lover (Part 22)

20 Jan 2018, noon

Darlings, with your generosity, we raised Rs.10,000. Other well-wishers raised another 10,000. The amount required has been collected. Now Girija and her husband will not lose their home.

Please don't send me more than the cost of the book now.

Thanks a million to Soumya, Alpana, Rajasri, Supriya, Rash, Nancy and Nirmala for your generous contribution.

Thanks to Deviyanee, Ramya, Fermeen, Sadia, Suja, Saman and Stories 1408 for buying the book.

Love,
Smita

Heartfelt gratitude to Hetal, Girija and Meemou for contributing to the Girija fund. Your generous contributions have been paid into her account.

Thanks to Jaya, Sravya and Parvathi for buying the book.

Thanks to Anju, Sudha, Maya, Sahasranju, Mansi and Avan for purchasing Sujatha.


Paid in Rs 7,000 solely due to Meemou and Sudha's generosity. May God bless all of you.

Darlings, Rashmi (IF: rulama) has started a new travel blog with photos and details of her wide and varied travels. Check out the fabulous blog and enjoy the beauties of Sikkim and other places with her. Don't forget to leave comments showing your love.

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We have reached the last part of  His Elusive Lover, which will be posted before evening today.

I will be taking a short break of a couple of weeks to write another story that has been nagging me, asking to be written.

In the meantime, I would like you to purchase SUJATHA, a story I wrote many months ago. The cost is the same as A Royal Bride. The netbanking and PayPal details are as given in Part 1 of The Handpicked Bride on the old blog.

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SUJATHA tells the tale of an independent but wounded girl who has a love-hate relationship with Madhavan, my adorable hero with a man bun.

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Part 22

Arnav led Khushi out of her room to the living room where the two families were sitting, stunned and bemused.

“I am taking Khushi with me to my house now. We will be getting married tomorrow at 7am. You are welcome to attend it,” Arnav announced, handing over a card with his home address to Sasi Gupta. He turned to look at buaji and Garima. “Khushi has taken only her mother’s jewels, a document and her parents’ photo from your house.”

“Hum chalte hein, babuji, amma, buaji, jiji,” Khushi bid them farewell, hands folded. “I will never forget that you took me in when I had no one. I am sorry I couldn’t oblige you in marrying a boy you wanted me to. How could I do that when I want to spend my life with Arnavji?”

Buaji sniffed. Garima flushed with anger.

Payal and babuji smiled at her.

“Khussi, hamesha khuss rehna, bitiya,” babuji said.

“Apna khayal rakhna, Khussi,” Payal said tearfully. “Phoone karna hamein.”

Khushi hugged Payal and took her father’s blessings. When she went to touch Garima and buaji’s feet, they turned away in anger.

“Khushi, chalein?” Arnav asked.

“Ji,” she replied, drying her wet cheeks.

Arnav looked directly into Sasi’s eyes and said, “I will take care of Khushi. She will never want for anything.”

Sasi nodded.    

               

He led Khushi to the door.

At the doorway, he paused, turned around and said to the Guptas, “It is better you know this. I purchased Gomti Sadan.”

The Guptas stared at him, their eyes like saucers and their jaws on the ground. But more shock was yet to come.

“I bought it for Khushi. Now the house is in her name. Khushi Kumari Gupta owns Gomti Sadan,” he stated.

Leaving a shell-shocked audience behind, he took Khushi’s hand and led her to his car.

                                                              ***

He opened the car door for her.

As she took her seat, he saw her feet in the jooti he had sent her.

“They look beautiful when you wear them,” he whispered, touching a pearl on the jooti.

“Shukriya,” Khushi murmured, feeling overwhelmed and shy.

He lifted her chin with one finger and looking into her hazel eyes, he said, “No one has fought my battles for me. Ever. No one has defended me, except you.”

He took hold of her hand and kissed her palm.

Her breath hitched at his touch.

He put his hand into his pocket and pulled out the earring she had been holding in her hand when he had called her. Slowly he pushed the stem of the ornament into the piercing in her ear and fastened it.

Her eyes were shut and she was breathing heavily.

He stayed still, his eyes taking in her beauty.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. 

                                

“Shall we go to your house?” Arnav asked softly.

She looked at him for a long moment and then nodded, tears sprouting in her eyes.

                                                                ***

They arrived to a rapturous welcome by the Raizadas. Only Anjali was absent from the party, but no one minded that.

Nani was at the door, ready to welcome the new bahu.

“Khussi bitiya,” she exclaimed as she saw Khushi being escorted out of the car by Arnav.

Mami came running with a thali holding a lit lamp, sindoor, flowers and rice.

“Bhere ijj hamri bahuriya?” she asked, thrusting the thali into nani’s hands. 

She peeked over nani’s shoulders and a beatific smile spread over her face as she saw Arnav and Khushi walking towards them.

“Hello hi bye bye! Hamre Arnav bitwaa and hamri Khussi! Eben Aishwarya Roy and her husband bill be jealous of ujj bhen they see our couples,” mami declared.

“Nani,” Arnav said, his cheeks flushed, “Here is your bahu.”

“Haiyye!  Hamre Arnav bitwaa ijj blushing like he used his mami’s blush on his facewaa,” mami chortled.

All laughed.

Nani did aarti of Arnav and Khushi and both of them touched her feet and took her blessings. She hugged and kissed them on their foreheads.

Mama hugged them both.

So did mami, crushing Arnav in her arms as she wept all over his shoulder, leaving streaks of makeup on his coat.

“Ab bas bhi karo, Mano,” mama teased her. “Keep some tears for the wedding too.”

Akash hugged his bhai and touched his bhabi’s feet.

“Beta,” mama told Khushi, “we are your own family. Don’t hesitate to ask us if you want anything. It is your right. Haq se mango.”

Khushi couldn’t control her tears.

“Rote nahi, beta,” mama consoled her. “Arnav bitwaa, don't let our bitiya cry.”

                                                                   ***              

Dinner was fun.

After many days, the Raizadas were free to be happy.

They embarrassed Arnav by telling exaggerated tales of his childhood pranks to Khushi.

He sat there, his eyes filled with laughter, his soul drenched in happiness, his heart light with hope.

Khushi’s face was one big smile as the whole family roasted Arnav, using the rare chance they had gotten to get back at him.

Anjali sat silently at the dinner table and answered in monosyllables when her family tried to interest and involve her in the conversation.

Khushi had felt bad when she had seen Anjali’s morose face when the family had converged in the dining room for dinner. Her attempt to step back and hide behind Arnav had been foiled by him who had taken her hand and tugged her to stand by him.

He had told Anjali, “Di, I have brought Khushi home. We will be getting married tomorrow morning at seven.”

Khushi’s heart had almost stopped in fear.

But all Anjali had done was nod.

“I have made arrangements for your cruise. The nurse will be accompanying you,” he had added.

Anjali had only nodded.

Khushi stole a glance at the stone-faced Anjali who was spooning food into her mouth.

“She will be fine,” Arnav said under his breath. “Don’t worry about her.”

Mami said loudly, “Khussi, we selected ten shadi ka joda for you. You pick one. Iph you don’t like hamre choicewaa, we bill call Ram Lal. He bill bring more joda phor you.”

“I will take one from the ten you have selected, mamiji,” Khushi said with a smile.

“My daughter, Ratna’s jewellery is with Chotey in his locker. Khussi bitiya, they belong to you now,” nani said.

Anjali glared at nani, her eyes steely.

Nani continued, “Anjali bitiya was given her share when she got married. Now all that remains belongs to you, Ratna’s bahuriya.”

Anjali looked down at her plate as the others enthused about the wedding arrangements.

                                                                    ***

Khushi went to her old room through the door opening from the corridor. The connecting door was shut and she was too shy to try and open it.

Smiling faintly at the memory of the jokes mami had cracked while they sat deciding on the joda and the jewellery, she showered and changed into a pair of pink nightclothes she found in the wardrobe.

She then got into bed, making sure that she could see the sliver of light at the bottom of the connecting door.

A knock sounded on the connecting door.

“Come in,” she called, her voice shaking.

Arnav opened the door and stood in the doorway looking at the enchanting picture she made, curled up in bed.

“Tomorrow night, you will be with me in my room, Khushi,” he reminded her, his eyes naughty.

Khushi blushed.

He walked towards her bed.

She sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest.

He sat down by her.

“Arnavji,” she began.

“Hhmm?” he asked, his eyes on her lovely eyes and tempting lips.

“I am scared of darkness,” she confessed. “I used to sleep looking at the light from your room.” She pointed at the gap between the door and the floor. “My parents died at night in a car accident.”

He swallowed past the lump of pain in his throat.

“I am scared of speed,” she admitted. “And I am scared of sleeping alone. I managed to do it last time because I knew you were in the next room. I am telling you all these things so that you can change your mind if you want to. Matlab, you don’t have to marry me.”

Arnav struggled to smile. He said, “On the contrary, I have to marry you now.”

“Ji?” she asked, confused.

“I can’t let you sleep alone, can I?” he asked, running a gentle finger down her cheek.

She blushed.

“I will make sure that the night lamp is on in our room all night,” he said. “I promise not to drive fast. I also promise never to leave you alone at night and to keep you so busy all night that you have no time to be scared.”

Khushi gasped, her face as red as a tomato. Finally she said, “You...Arnavji...you are saying such things...matlab, I never thought...” She lowered her flushed face.

Arnav smirked. “Well, I never had a bride before,” he said.

“Amanji would be so shocked,” Khushi said in wonder.

“He would be,” Arnav conceded, trying hard to keep a straight face. “I have never spoken to him like this.”

Khushi had to laugh. “You are so naughty!” she exclaimed.

He quickly bent his head and stole a kiss from her, his warm, hard lips on her cheek.

Her hand went to cover her rosy cheek and her lashes fell to cover her bashful eyes.

“I love you, Khushi,” he whispered, holding her hand. “More than my life. I never thought a girl like you would come into my life.”

Khushi blushed again, but raised her eyes to meet his. “Hum bhi...hum bhi aap se bahut prem karte hein,” she confessed, her voice low and shaky.

His hold on her hand tightened.

“Khushi, I am sorry for bringing you her to trap Shyam,” he said, his eyes serious and remorseful. “I regret that more than I regret anything else in my life.”

Khushi smiled at him. “If you hadn’t hatched that plan, I wouldn’t have gotten to spend time with you,” she reminded him.

The guilt remained in his heart. He would make up for his mistake every day of their lives together, he promised her silently.

Khushi looked at the strain on his face. She knew that he was beating himself up about his mistake.

She leaned forward and kissed him on his lean cheek.

Shock and pleasure drove the guilt from his mind.

“Khushi!” he teased. “You are so shameless! Kissing your groom, are you? And that too before shaadi?”

Khushi blushed furiously, but managed to say, “He is my groom. I can do whatever I want to.”

“Really?” he teased. “What else do you want to do to me?”

“Aap jaake so jayiye,” Khushi begged, hiding her red face in her blanket.

“On one condition,” he stated.

“Kya?” she asked.

“Leave the door open so that I can see you,” he demanded.

“Ji,” she agreed.

They spent the night looking at each other, lying in their respective beds.

Soon it dawned, the sun bringing with it their wedding day.

The Raizadas gathered around her and Arnav, helping them to dress. Jokes at their expense were cracked at regular intervals. They were hugged to an inch of their lives and literally led into the mandap by their family.

The Guptas sat with the guests, staring at the grandeur of the house with wide eyes and open mouths.

Sasi Gupta did kanyadaan and soon the wedding was over.

The new bride had a designer diamond mangalsutra and red sindoor in her maang and was hugged by the Raizadas till she felt her ribs would collapse.

Arnav had a smile on his face that Aman had never seen before.


As Aman stood on the sidelines enjoying ASR’s happiness, Khushi came to him and quickly touched his feet, taking his blessings.

Aman whispered, scandalised, “Khushiji, you are my boss’ wife. You shouldn’t touch my feet.”

“You are my bhaiyya first and Arnavji’s employee next,” Khushi asserted.

Before Aman could remonstrate, Arnav came to him and hugged him tight, murmuring, “Thanks, Aman,” in his ear.

Khushi beamed.

Buaji and Garima managed to get hold of Khushi.

“Khussi, you have selected a very rich boy,” Garima said in awe.

Khushi said nothing.

“You have everything now, including our house, Nandkisore,” buaji said. “Now show some kindness to Payaliya, your jiji. Let her marry from Gomti Sadan.”

Before Khushi could respond, buaji saw Arnav walking towards them.

“Hum chalte hein, Nandkisore,” she said, leaving, dragging Garima with her.

“What did they want?” Arnav asked directly.

“To have jiji’s wedding at Gomti Sadan,” she replied honestly.

He smiled at her, his eyes full of love. “The one benefit of having an akdoo, short-tempered, bulldozer of a husband who shouts at people is that you needn’t take the responsibility or the blame. If you wish to refuse, tell them that I wouldn’t approve. They will never dare to approach me.”

Khushi looked cutely cross as she said, “You are not akdoo. Nor are you a bulldozer. You used to be short-tempered, but aren’t now. Don’t put yourself down. I won’t tolerate it, hum kahe dete hein.”

In the presence of his delighted family and all the slack-jawed guests, Akhdoo Singh Raizada kissed Khushi Kumari Gupta a.k.a the lion tamer on her cheek.

The End

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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