20. OS 19. His Elusive Lover (Part 20)

Part 20

Khushi sat in her room, not wanting to get involved in the feverish discussion about what to do with all the money the family had in the bank after the sale of Gomti Sadan. Even then she could hear snatches of the conversation.

“The buyer paid every rupee we asked. He didn’t even bargain. His only condition was that it happen immediately, jiji,” Garima said in wonder for the hundredth time.

“Nandkisore has been kind to us,” buaji remarked. “We can see to Sasi babua’s treatment.”

“I can see to Satwik Mishtan Bhandar and pay our debts,” Sasi said slowly.

“Yes,” Garima concurred. “And we can marry off the girls in style. Suniye, shall we invite all our relations and friends in Lucknow to come to Delhi for the weddings? We will have to arrange accommodation for them.”

Buaji agreed. “We don’t have any other daughter in the family to marry off once we conduct Payaliya and Khussi’s ssadi, woh bhi to brothers in one mandap on one day. Invite all of them, Nandkisore. Naahi to we will have to listen to complaints all our lives.”

“We can now buy new jewellery for Payaliya, jiji,” Garima discovered.

“Yes, let Khussi keep her amma’s ornaments, Nandkisore,” buaji declared.

Garima lowered her voice, “I hope Khussi doesn’t create any problems today evening when the boys and their family come, jiji.”

Buaji nodded. “Sasi babua, talk to her. Ask her to consider her jiji’s future,” she urged.

Sasi demurred. “Khussi has to like the boy. How can she marry a boy she doesn’t like?” he asked slowly.

Khushi placed the pillow over her ears and buried herself under the covers.

Her peace was to be disturbed a few minutes later.

“Khussi,” buaji called, banging on the door. “A boy has come to see you.”

Khushi jumped up in bed. The boy was supposed to come in the evening, wasn’t he? What was he doing here now?

Cursing all boys, she crawled out of bed and throwing her dupatta around her neck, she marched to the door, pulled it open and marched out to do battle.

She stopped short when she saw a very young boy standing at the entrance to her house. He looked like a teenager.

This was the boy who wanted to marry her?

Before she could open her mouth to ask him a few pertinent questions related to his age and whether his parents knew he wasn’t at home, the boy stumped her with, “A delivery for Ms. Khushi Kumari Gupta.”

Soon she was in her room with a parcel in her hands.

“Hey Devi Maiyya, yeh ho kya raha he?” she asked out aloud. “Even Khushi Kumari Gupta is getting gifts?” She tore open the brown cover to see a brightly coloured box. “One more box?” she asked. She opened the box to be stunned into silence.

Inside was a pair of jooti, pastel pink in colour, studded with pearls and stones and embellished with zari work. She could only stare at the most beautiful shoes she had ever seen.

The long moment of silent gushing over, she looked at the address on the parcel to make sure it was for her and not for some other lucky girl.

It was for her. It was really for her.

Khushi blinked, unable to take in the reality of receiving such a gorgeous gift. At this late date, she wondered who had sent it.

She began to burrow in the box for a note and finally found it.

Khushi,

For hitting Shyam with your shoe,

A

That was all it said.

Khushi hugged the shoes to her chest and burst out crying. Hot tears wet the slip of paper as she kissed it repeatedly. His hand had touched it; his fingers had written her name. He had thought of her. That was enough to make them precious for her.

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

Part 19

“Mr. Shyam Manohar Jha?” the inspector asked.

Arnav looked at Shyam.

“You are under arrest for hiring Munna Shehzad to kill your brother-in-law, Arnav Singh Raizada,” the inspector said.

Anjali wailed.

Shyam looked frantically for a way out.

“Inspector,” Arnav requested. “May we have a few minutes alone with him? There is much we wish to tell him.”

The inspector nodded. ASR was not someone he could ignore. The policemen left the room.

Arnav walked up to Shyam who looked deranged with fear.

In a sudden move, he punched Shyam in the nose and said, “This is for insulting Khushi.”

Khushi’s mouth fell open at the sight. His family too could only gape at the scene unfolding before their eyes.

Shyam clutched his bleeding nose and mumbled threats.

“Look up,” Arnav ordered.

Shyam looked up.

Arnav slapped him on his left cheek. “For cheating di,” he said.

“Yejj, yejj, you go, Arnav bitwaa,” mami shouted her encouragement.

Shyam tried to lunge at Arnav.

Arnav slapped Shyam backhanded on his right cheek. “For fooling all of us,” he said.

Mami whistled.

Akash joined the fray. Arnav stood back.

Akash caught hold of Shyam by the collar and shook him. “How dare you try to kill bhai? How dare you?” he asked, his voice shaking with anger. “Using the money he earned, living here and then...”

Shyam tried to get at Akash’s throat. Arnav stood ready to defend his peace-loving brother, but help was not needed.

An Akash, full of righteous indignation and brotherly love, delivered an uppercut that floored Shyam.

The Raizadas and Khushi looked at Shyam lying like a log on the living room floor in silence.

Only Anjali’s sobs could be heard in that defining moment.

Arnav heaved a sigh of relief. He had successfully protected his family from harm again. But this time, with Khushi’s help.

He turned to look at her.

She was standing still, her sympathetic eyes on a weeping Anjali.

Arnav signalled the police to take Shyam away.

They entered the room.

“Shyam Manohar Jha is also a bigamist,” Arnav informed the officers. “We will be pressing charges.”

The Raizadas gasped. It would mean a lot of bad publicity. But they said nothing, knowing that Arnav wouldn’t have made this decision lightly.

As the police lifted Shyam’s dead weight and left the room, Arnav looked at his di. She was trying to speak while crying and soon she would, he knew. He also knew that things could get very ugly very fast. He needed Khushi out of it.

“Khushi,” he whispered.

She hurried to stand by him, her soft eyes asking him wordlessly what more he wanted her to do.

“Go upstairs,” he said under his breath. “Stay in your room. Rest.”

She hesitated a moment, then nodded and left the family, just in time.

Anjali started sobbing uncontrollably.

“Chotey, Chotey,” she called for her security blanket.

“I am here,” he said, not moving an inch closer.

“Chotey, why u..us?” Anjali asked. “What have w..we done to deserve this?”

“You picked a cheat to marry,” Arnav said calmly. “He cheated us. We found out. We threw him out.”

Nani, mami, mama and Akash watched the interaction in silence, knowing they had to mirror Arnav’s no-nonsense attitude if Anjali had to snap out of her dream and smell the coffee.

“Chotey, I....we were so happy...till that Khushi came here....” Anjali sobbed, unwilling to leave her bubble.

“Why don’t you go to your room and rest?” Arnav suggested, throwing a look at Akash, who, with mama, mami and nani’s help, persuaded and helped a wailing Anjali to go to her room.

Arnav called a doctor and asked her to make a house call. He then arranged for a nurse to stay with Anjali for a few days.

As he turned to leave, his eyes fell on Khushi’s jooti. He took it and stood gazing at it for a long moment.

                                                            ***

Arnav saw the doctor off and turned to see nani and mami making for the steps with a tray in their hands.

“Dinner for Anjali bitiya,” said nani wearily.

Arnav took it from her. “Nani, the doctor has given a sedative to di. She will sleep all night. And the nurse is with her. Go to bed, both of you,” he said.

“It was a terrible shock, Chotey,” nani said with a sigh.

“Yejj, Sasumma. I neber knews he wajj so bad,” mami agreed.

“A nightmare,” nani said slowly. “Just like what happened in the past, Chotey.” Her voice quivered.

“Then we were helpless, nani. Now we are not. Shyam Manohar Jha will pay for betraying our trust,” Arnav promised. “Go to bed, mami, nani.”

Nani nodded. Mami helped her to her room.

                                                                ***

Arnav walked up the stairs to his bedroom.

Khushi was waiting for him.

He sighed, weary beyond words. The day had been long, but he had one more task waiting for him. The most difficult task. The most painful, heart-wrenching task of sending Khushi away, of seeing disillusionment in her beautiful hazel eyes as he told her the truth of her employment....

He halted at the door. Postponing it was not an option. Anjali was delusional and could make things very hurtful for Khushi if they remained under the same roof. He had put Khushi through too much. No more. She deserved better.

He pushed open the door.

Khushi jumped up from the recliner she had been sitting on.

“Arnavji, aap theek ho?” Her quiet, musical voice hurt him. So did the concern in the question.

“I want you to do something for me, Khushi,” he said, forcing the words out.

“Ji, anything,” she soothed him.

He turned to look into her honest, direct eyes that didn’t know how to hide her commitment to him.

“Anything?” he asked, just to prolong the moment.

“Ji. Aap kahiye. Hum kar denge,” she assured him.

He could ask her to leave his house. She would, he knew. He needn’t explain or give excuses, he knew.

But he wanted to. For the first time in his life, he wanted to explain. He didn’t want her to leave his house thinking he had used her. He wanted her to continue calling him Arnavji in the special, loving way she did.

“Khushi, I am sorry,” he blurted out.

She frowned in incomprehension. “Kyon, Arnavji?” she asked softly.

“Tumhe yaad he, on the first day we met, I shouted at you for arranging red roses in my office?” he asked.

“Ji,” she said with a slight smile.

“That morning I had to watch Shyam give red roses to di at the breakfast table. I had just received Shyam’s photos from Mangesh and I...” He shook his head, unable to find words to describe the disgust and repulsion the photos had created in him. He quickly marched to his locker, opened it, took out a brown envelope and handed it to her.

Khushi hesitated.

“Dekho,” he insisted. He knew he would never find words enough to describe his state of mind that morning.

Reluctantly, Khushi removed the photos from the cover and glanced at the first one.

She gasped.

The photos fell from her hands to fall scattered on the floor.

Blushing furiously, she bent to gather them and then pushed them into the envelope, almost tearing it in her haste. As quickly as possible, she dumped the envelope on the low table nearby.

When she faced Arnav, her face was pale. “You must have been so sad, so angry,” she murmured.

“Furious,” he admitted. “Enough to tear the world apart.”

She nodded.

“I wanted to kill him,” he said simply.

“And then you saw the red roses I had filled your office with,” she said, her voice small.

He nodded.

“I showed di the photos,” he confessed.

Khushi held her breath.

“She refused to believe me,” he said bluntly.

Khushi’s mouth fell open. Then she tried to find excuses for Anjali to make him feel better. “He was her husband,” she said softly. “She trusted him. Who would think this of him?”

“Her faith in her husband was greater than her faith in her brother,” he replied quietly.

Khushi had nothing to say. She looked down.

“The brother who, at the age of 14, stood by her when their world collapsed around them, when their parents’ corpses were laid in the hall of their ancestral home in Lucknow for the public to pay their respects, when their chachaji threw them out of their own house the day after their parents’ funeral...” he continued, his voice low, his eyes on the envelope.

Khushi’s mouth fell open and her eyes widened to impossible dimensions.

“The brother who heard their parents arguing on the evening of her wedding because their mama had found out that their papa was having an affair...” he continued as if he were speaking of other people.

Khushi couldn’t speak to save herself. Tears filled her eyes.

“Who saw their mama lying in a pool of her own blood after she shot herself with their papa’s hunting gun,” he continued.

Khushi clasped her hand over her mouth to suppress her sobs.

“Who lit their parents’ pyre after their papa shot himself on finding mama’s body,” he said.

Khushi sagged and almost fell on the recliner. Tears rushed down her cheeks.

“Who held her when she wept as her wedding was cancelled when the boy’s family decided they didn’t want to align themselves with a family embroiled in a scandal, who left his childhood behind that day and worked day and night to give her financial security and a life...” Arnav sat on his bed. “Who fought his nightmares night after night so that she could live in her bubble of happiness, leaving their past behind.”

Khushi bent over, hiding her face in her hands as she wept for the young boy who had seen purgatory with his own eyes.

He sat, his fingers clasped, his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

When her sobs showed signs of subsiding, he said slowly, “When I found out about Shyam, it was like history repeating itself.” He slammed his clenched fist against the mattress.

Khushi looked at the bowed head and tense body of her boss. Arnavji had an ocean of sorrow within him, the depth of which she couldn’t even begin to fathom, she realised. His anger was born out of his frustration, his inability to protect his family against crooks like Shyam.

“I am sorry,” he said again, shaking his head.

“Kiss liye?” she asked, her voice cracked.

“I used you,” he admitted, his eyes meeting hers.

She looked at him enquiringly.

He averted his eyes.

“When di didn’t believe me, I knew...I knew something had to be done. I—I got you in here...not for the Paris deal, Khushi...” His voice died away.

“Then?” she asked.

“As prey for Shyam,” he admitted the worst of it. “I knew he would be attracted to you, would try to make a move. I wanted di to catch him red-handed.”

Her face lost all colour. Tears filled her already wet eyes.

“I—I want you to go home tonight,” he said, turning his head away, unable to see her pain.

She said nothing. She just sat there, feeling lost.

“You don’t have to worry about money or a job, Khushi. I will see to everything. By noon tomorrow, all your problems will be solved,” he reassured her.

She was too far gone to have his reassurance register in her mind.

‘Arnavji was using me,’ her heart chanted. ‘He didn’t ask me to stay with him because he wanted me to work on the Paris deal. It was all a lie. He wanted me to...me to... He Devi Maiyya...’

“Khushi?” he called, disturbed by her stillness and silence.

“You expected me to lure Shyam, attract him?” she asked in a low voice that held a world of hurt.

“No,” he replied hastily. “I didn’t expect you to do anything except be here with me. I knew Shyam would act to form. I just didn’t tell you. That’s all.”

“Your family knew?” she asked, pale with humiliation.

“Di didn’t. The rest knew,” he answered truthfully.

“That’s why they were so kind to me,” she whispered.

“No,” he replied. “They like you.”

Khushi tried to take deep breaths. Maybe that would stop the world from spinning.

“Khushi, pack your bags. You need to go home tonight,” he insisted.

She looked at him, hurt again. He wanted to throw her out at night? He couldn’t bear her presence for one more night?

“Di is in a bad state and the doctor has sedated her. When the effect wears off, she is going to be very upset. I don’t want you caught in the crossfire,” he explained.

Khushi frowned.

Arnav explained. “She is not in her senses right now.”

“What do you mean?” Khushi asked.

“She blames you for turning her world upside down,” Arnav explained.

Her eyes widened. But she didn’t bother to ask for more explanations. She got up and went to her room to pack.

                                                             ***

The connecting door was open and Arnav could see her packing. Once in a while, she would stop folding clothes and dry her cheeks.

Arnav paced his room, impatient for Khushi to be gone so that she escaped the holocaust that was sure to happen when Anjali woke up and extremely upset that Khushi was leaving him. He ran agitated fingers through his hair and pulled out the phone to call Mohan, the driver. Then he went to his garden and sat on the recliner waiting for Khushi.

Khushi joined him a few minutes later, bag in hand. Her feet were bare. She couldn’t wear one jooti and walk. The other had been sacrificed to teach Shyam a lesson.

“Hum chalte hein, sir,” she said quietly.

Arnav jumped up. “Mohan will drop you home,” he said.

“Nahi, hum chale jayenge,” she replied, lifting her bag to leave.

Arnav grabbed the bag from her. Their fingers touched for a second and the bag dropped to the ground, both of them shocked at the impact.

Then Arnav blinked. It broke the spell. He quickly took the bag and walked out of his room. 

Khushi followed him on bare feet.

Mohan was waiting by the white SUV. He quickly took the bag from Arnav and opened the door for Khushi.

“I can take a rickshaw,” Khushi murmured so that Mohan couldn’t hear her.

“I want to be sure you reach home safe,” he replied. “Khushi, please, go with Mohan.”

She looked at Arnav’s face. It looked lined. The grooves on either side of his nose were prominent. He looked as weary as she felt. And his day hadn’t ended yet.

She nodded and got into the car. Arnav glimpsed her bare feet before Mohan shut the door.

The car started to move and Khushi turned her head to look at him one last time. She would never see him again. Tears filled her eyes.

Their eyes held the gaze till possible.

 The car soon left Shantivan and took the road to Laxmi Nagar.

                                                              ***

“Shall I carry your bag in, Khushiji?” Mohan asked, the late hour not making a difference to his good humour.

“No, Mohanji. It is just one bag. I will take it. Shukriya,” she replied. She felt she was bleeding to death second by second.

Mohan waited patiently for five minutes till buaji opened the front door.

Then he drove away.

“Khussi?” buaji asked, hiding a yawn. “What are you doing here at this time, Nandkisore?”

“My job is over, buaji,” Khushi explained. So was her life. But that was her own business, wasn’t it? “I am hungry. I didn’t have dinner. Is there anything left, buaji?” She needed to do something or she would go mad.

“Check in the kitchen, Sanka devi,” buaji said.

Khushi dumped her bag in her bedroom. Payal was sound asleep. Without disturbing her, Khushi washed her hands and went to root in the cupboards. All she could find was a packet of biscuits. She placed the kettle on the stove for tea and sat down at the dining table to eat the biscuits.

Garima came to the dining room. “Khussi? You are back? Kya hua? Did you do some gadbad at your workplace?”

“No, amma,” Khushi said, her mouth full of biscuits. “The job is over.” Her life, happiness, chain, neend too were over. She got up, made tea and brought it to the dining table to drink.

“It is good that your job is done, Nandkisore,” buaji said. “Now you stay at home.”

Khushi wanted to ask her how they would manage if she didn’t work, but didn’t get the chance.

“Kal, the ladkewale are coming for dinner,” buaji added. “They will be happy to finally see you, Khussi.”

Khushi stopped eating. “Who?”she asked.

“Hai Re Nandkisore!” buaji lamented, hitting her forehead with her hand. “This bhooleswari devi! The boy Payaliya is going to marry.”

“Oh,” Khushi remarked.

“I told you about the boy’s brother, Sanka devi. He wants to marry you. You can meet him tomorrow at dinner, Nandkisore! We can fix the wedding date and start preparations,” buaji declared.

“Yes, jiji,” Garima said with a smile.

“Buaji, amma,” Khushi began, but no one wanted to listen to her.

“Khussi, we were thinking,” Garima said. “Payaliya and you can share your mother’s jewellery. She can take half and you can have half. First we will have Payaliya’s ssadi, then your ssadi in the same mandap.” She smiled fondly at Khushi. “I know you don’t mind sharing your things with your jiji aur paisa bhi bach jayega.”

“I don’t,” Khushi said quietly, “but I won’t marry the boy.”

Buaji and Garima gasped. 

“Yeh kaa keh rahi ho, Parmeswari!” buaji asked. “I told you phone pe that you have to marry him. If you don’t, Payaliya’s marriage won’t happen. Garima, make her understand.”

“If they reject jiji because I don’t want to marry their son, then it is their loss, buaji,” Khushi said quietly. She was in a strange mood. Knowing that Arnavji had used her, that she would never see him again, that her heart was forever going to feel as though someone had dug a hole there and that she was going to die without seeing him made her lose her inhibitions and her inordinate fear of disobliging the family that had adopted her. “I will not, under any circumstances, marry the boy.”

Buaji looked at Garima, both of them scared and worried. Khushi was not playing according to the rules.

Before buaji could open her mouth to remind Khushi of her obligation to the family, Khushi said, “You adopted me when I had no one. I will be forever grateful to you for that. Jiji can have all my jewellery. I don’t want anything. But I will not imprison myself in a marriage I don’t want. Not for anything.” Her heart belonged to one man, only one man even if he didn't want her.

Buaji and Garima looked terrified.

Buaji tried again, “Sun, Nandkisore. You don’t know the boy. Meet him once.”

“Yes, Khussi, mil lio. What will the boy’s family think if you don’t meet him?” Garima asked.

“You are our sweet Titliya, aren’t you?” buaji cajoled her even as her eyes revealed how frantic she was.

“And if I don’t change my mind?” Khushi asked, wanting desperately to bawl her eyes out.

“We will think about that later,” Garima said, smiling uneasily. “Meri rani gudiya, just meet him.”

Khushi nodded.

Both ladies heaved sighs of relief.

Khushi looked at the biscuit crumbs in the packet and said thoughtfully, “We are all using others, aren't we?”

Garima and buaji sat frozen in their seats, shocked by a philosophical Khushi.

                                                                 ***

“Chotey, where is Khussi bitiya?” nani asked.

“Where are you going with the tray?” Arnav asked her.

“To Anjali bitiya’s room,” nani replied.

“HP,” Arnav called, taking the tray from her.

“Yes, Arnav bhaiyya?” HP came running.

“Take this back to the kitchen. Di will be having breakfast with us,” Arnav said firmly.

“Chotey...” nani began.

“Arnav bitwaa, Anjali bitiya won’t come downs,” mami said.

“Then she will starve,” Arnav said quietly. “I am going to talk to her.”

“We will join you, bhai,” Akash said.

Arnav nodded. The whole family went up to Anjali’s room.

On the way up, nani asked again, “Chotey, where is Khussi bitiya?”

“At her home,” Arnav replied. “I sent her home last night.”

“Homewaa?” mami asked astonished. “But she ijj an orphanwaa!”

“She is,” Arnav replied. “But she lives with her aunt and family.”

“She has family?” mama asked, disappointed. “Matlab, it is good she has family, lekin she could have stayed with us. She needn’t have left us.”

Nani and mami nodded agreement.

“Why did you send her away, Chotey?” nani asked tearfully. “She was a part of our family. I know, you brought her here to trap Shyam, lekin she is like one of our own.”

“Bil she comes iph we call her again?” mami asked. “Saasumma, you needs a private secretary. Khussi ko rakh lio. Hamre saath rahenge Khussi.”

“Bhai, shall we ask her to come here?” Akash asked.

Arnav drew in a deep breath. A night spent fingering the expensive designer sarees Khushi had left behind in her room and hugging the pillow she had used hadn’t been restful by any means. “Di is angry with Khushi. I didn’t want her to listen to anymore abuse than she has,” he explained.

They reached the door.

Akash knocked.

“Come in,” the nurse called.

They walked in to see Anjali sitting in bed, her back resting against pillows propped against the headboard.

“How do you feel today, Anjali bitiya?” nani asked, sitting down by her.

Anjali’s eyes filled with tears. “How can I feel better, nani? My husband is in jail.”

“He was not your husband,” Arnav said quietly.

“Bigamy is a crime,” mama stated.

“We were so happy, nani,” Anjali wept. “And then Khushi had to come and destroy everything.”

“Khussi didn’t destroy anything, Anjali bitiya,” nani was firm on the point. “Shyam’s neeyat was faulty. He was a bad man.”

“Nahiiiii,” Anjali wept.

“Di, Shyam has a wife and a son. He was fooling you,” Akash tried to explain.

“It is all a lie,” Anjali insisted. “Chotey,” she turned to Arnav. “Chotey, won’t you help your di?”

“What do you want, di?” Arnav asked.

“Chotey, sab kuch pehle jaise kar do, please. We were so happy. Shyamji was here,” Anjali pleaded.

Mama shook his head in disappointment.

Arnav said slowly but firmly, “I am Arnav Singh Raizada, but I am not God.”

“Chotey, how can you refuse your di anything she asks for?” Anjali asked.

“If you ask for impossible things, I have to refuse. Shyam is in jail for attempting to kill me. He is guilty of bigamy. I have absolutely no intention of letting him into our house or family again,” Arnav said.

“Chotey, I never thought the day will come when you listen to the words of someone like Khushi and discount your di’s wishes,” Anjali said mournfully. “She has captivated you, turned you against us.”

Akash threw his hands in the air.

“Quiet, Anjali,” nani rebuked her. “Don’t say a word against Khussi bitiya. I understand that you are agitated, unhappy, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to accuse Khussi bitiya for Shyam’s fault. Give up this blind belief in Shyam. Face the truth, that he was leading you on for your money.”

“Khushi has turned my entire family against me,” Anjali wept. “I will not stay here a moment longer.”

“As you wish,” Arnav replied after a moment. “Pick a place you want to go. I will arrange your tickets. Because Khushi will always be a part of my life, our lives. If you can’t deal with that, if you can’t see the truth even after it has been proved in your presence, there is little else we can do.”

“Chotey, you will abandon your di?” Anjali was teary and furious. “After all I went through. How could you forget our past?”

Nani answered for him. “Chotey hasn’t forgotten your past and never will. Because it is his past too. Anjali bitiya, you have been so focused on your loss and your pain that you never considered the fact that Chotey lost his parents too that day, that he was younger than you. You should have held him together instead of expecting him to protect you. Finally, Chotey has a chance to live his life. Let him do it. For one moment, stop being selfish and put him first.”

“Saasumma ijj right,” mami seconded her. “Hamre Arnav bitwaa hajj the right to be happy.”

“It is not always all about you, Anjali bitiya,” mama added.

“And Khushiji has nothing to do with the mess your life is right now,” Akash said. “Don’t blame others for your problems.”

“You showed bad judgement when you chose Shyam to marry. Recognise that the fault is yours. It is not ours. It is not Chotey’s. It is not Khussi bitiya’s,” nani declared.

“Think about travelling,” Arnav said quietly. “It will take your mind off things and give you a break.”

“And when you get back, think about taking up a job or a course,” mama suggested. “Why should you waste your life?”

“Arnav bitwaa, bhat about a cruise?” mami asked.

“Good idea,” Arnav said. “Di, think about it. But right now, come down for breakfast. You are not sick and don’t need to be confined to this room.”

“Yes,” the whole family concurred with him.

Anjali was left with no choice if she didn’t want to starve to death.

                                                            ***

Khushi went to the temple in the morning. Then, after breakfast, she went to the kirana store.

When she returned, two men in formal clothes were leaving her home.

“Kya hua?” she asked babuji who was in the living room.

“Gomti Sadan has been sold,” babuji said slowly, a smile on his face.

“All our troubles have ended,” Garima said, thanking God with folded hands.

“Nandkisore is so kind,” buaji remarked, drying her tears. “He has taken away our ancestral home, but has saved us from penury. Now we can conduct Payaliya and Khussi’s ssadi well.”

Khushi heaved a sigh of relief even as she hid her sorrow. The only home she knew was gone. So were the walls in her bedroom she had painted butterflies on. So was her teak bed. So was her wood almirah with tassels hanging from it. So was the terrace she had flown kites from. So was the courtyard she had stolen drying mango pieces from.

But this loss was nothing compared to losing Arnavji.

She had lost Arnavji. She had lost everything.