The Diwali of Decisions... Part 2: Arnav's Quandary

 

             The Diwali of Decisions

                     Part 2

AN: Hi everyone, I am back with the second part of my latest story. Again, I've stuck to the canon up until the first Diwali episode, and my story takes off from there. I hope you enjoy reading this. Your comments and criticisms are always welcome. The final part will be up some time next week. Happy reading :) 

               

               Arnav’s Quandary

There was a slight knock at the door, and Arnav looked up expectedly.

“Arnav bhaiya, your coffee.” Hari Prakash entered the room and kept the cup on the table beside his recliner.

He felt a slight twinge of disappointment.

“Where is everyone?” he asked in a clipped tone, eyes still on his laptop.  “Bhaiya ji, Nani, Anjali di and Lavanya ji are in Nani’s room, Mamiji has gone to the ‘temple’ and Akash bhaiya hasn’t come back from the office yet.” The answer didn’t do anything to improve Arnav’s mood. ‘Okay, you may go now.’ The boss barked. HP left, still unphased, he was used to his Arnav Bhaiya’s well-meaning insolence.

 

Well, of course Akash was still at the office, that’s where he himself should have been. It was f***ing three in the afternoon, and Arnav Singh Raizada, the Founder and CEO of AR, was home already, frustratingly failing at drafting an important mail. Oh, how the mighty have fallen! He wanted to ask about her, but didn’t know how? He had left early for his office this morning, wanting to avoid any chance encounter with one Miss Gupta. While leaving though, he had overheard his di tell someone over the phone that Khushi hadn’t reached yet. He had assumed that to mean that she must have been on her way and had rushed out, hoping to find some semblance of calm amidst the chaos of work.

 

The coffee was still untouched an hour later. He was leaning back against the recliner, his eyes closed, his form still, a slight frown on his forehead, the only indication of the restlessness within.  Her torso wrapped in the chiffon, the red of the saree paling in comparison to the alluring hue of her visage… he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off her all night, he had been hypnotized. He was pretty sure he would have followed her off a cliff in that moment. The realization of his vulnerability in matters of Khushi jerked him back to his reality. He got up and moved to the poolside, hoping to rein-in his mind through gardening.  Arnav Singh Raizada was famed for his self-control, he prided himself on his savvy intellect, his famed ‘dimaag’, while the heart lay forgotten, somewhere deep inside, making very brief appearances in matters of Di. Khushi, somehow, had brought the flutter of his heart back. From the instant she fell in his arms; her eyes glassy, her lips quivering and her hands looped around him; his heart had made its presence known. The constant ache to possess her had followed close behind.

 

He had always been rather free with her; pushing her, pulling her, grabbing her, holding her… even marking her. He had been able to justify it all, to himself at least, in the name of anger. And so, he embraced the anger, with all its volatility, any excuse to touch her… Last night had shattered the pretence though, and his desire for her lay bare… unabashed and bare. It had to be his obsession with red, the colour was probably a siren’s call for him, it beckoned his maleness… And red on her, magnified his obsession beyond measure... It was the siren singing his favorite Sinatra song, exclusively for him. The pull was undeniable. He found himself facing the wall where he had held her captive a few hours back, imprisoned himself by her allure. His fingers traced the empty wall, willing the moment back, wishing a do-over. ‘What would you do different Arnav? Stop yourself from taking that first step in her direction or… or complete what had remained unfinished?’ The answer stunned him.

 

He would have kissed her, and she would have let him. The slight shiver of her frame, her downcast eyes, the quivering lips, had all been signs of her coyness, some slight hesitation even. At the slightest hint of reluctance; he would have stopped. But when she had met his gaze, in her eyes he had seen her permission, a plea… an invitation. The memory of her softness lay embedded in his flesh, his fingers could still feel her touch, the image of her delicate form caged within his arms was still fresh in his mind. Frustrated, he threw away the watering-pot, hoping to get rid of the unrest within. It didn’t. Why couldn’t he stop himself? Why didn’t she stop him?

 

“Chote, what happened? I heard a loud noise? Is everything okay?” His Di had barged in with a barrage of questions, forcing him out of his reverie. She saw the discarded vessel and temporarily calmed down. Arnav moved back to his room, hoping to avoid any conversation with his Di.

 

“Chote, why are you so distressed? Did something happen at work?” concern for her brother evident in her tone.

“I am fine di.” He answered, looking at his laptop, hoping she didn’t hear the remnants of the tornado brewing inside him in his voice.

“If you say so.” She relinquished rather easily; the touch of worry still intact though. She started to leave, then halted, turning back at the door she asked, “Did Khushi ji or Payal ji call you today?” The note of apprehension was palpable now.

“No. Why are you asking? Didn’t she come for work today?” he asked getting up from the recliner. His posture, alert.

“No. Payalji had called this morning, asking about her. She was really worried. I assumed Khushiji was meeting Lavanya at the office or something, since she had said she’d need to go there for a few hours this morning, so I gave her Lavanya and your numbers, I had thought she would have called.” She seemed really worried now.

“Di, please relax. I will call and check.” Arnav tried to calm his sister, while still feeling increasingly distraught himself. He called the next second but got no response.

“Anjali bitiya, please come to my room.” They heard Nani calling, probably from her room.

“Di, you go and check on Nani, I’ll try to call again. And don’t worry, I am sure everything is fine.”  The panic in his voice said otherwise.

“Chotey, I…”

“Anjali bitiya” Nani called again.

“Okay Chotey, keep calling. And let me know the instant you hear something.” He promised and she left.

 

She had tried calling him a couple of times during the day but he had wilfully ignored all attempts at contact.  He didn’t want to talk to her, not when he knew that the volcanic emotions within him would make him say something hurtful and humiliating, once again breaking her heart… And his. After all, just last night he had obliterated her very existence, calling her a gold-digger again, claiming their moment held no meaning, that she meant nothing…and worst of all, he had attacked her at her weakest.  He had been cruel to her, there was no other way to put it. He had seen the hurt in her eyes when he had announced his engagement, he had witnessed her struggle as she attempted to gather the broken bits of her spirit, her dignity, while feeding mithai to his family at this ‘happy’ occasion. She even had the sugar-free ones for him, she always did. He should have left her alone, given her time to build her self back up again, as she always did. Any other day, he probably would have. Last night though, he felt guilty and threatened, all at once, and so he had cornered her, like a mad dog, clawing at the tattered pieces of her dignity. Arnav Singh Raizada hated himself in that moment and in every moment since.

A couple more busy-tones and non-responses later, Arnav was getting agitated. The phone was still ringing when he rushed out of the house and to his car. As he pulled the door open, someone picked-up the call.

“Hello Khushi. Khushi? Hello? SOMEONE SPEAK DAMMIT!” He barked at the lack of response from the other side. The line wasn’t dead as he could hear people speaking at the other end.

“Hello Khushi, I…” he halted midway as the voices on the other end became slightly more audible and he heard her name.

“What has Khushi ever done to you? Why couldn’t you show her just a little kindness.” Was that her sister? He vaguely recalled her screaming at him when he had dropped an unconscious Khushi home. Of course, it had to be her. He tried to focus on the voices while starting the engine.

“Payaliya, I didn’t mean for her… I mean, I thought she wanted this.” Buaji sounded guilty.

“After she had explicitly expressed multiple times that she didn’t want to get engaged to Shyamji?”

‘What! Khushi’s engagement! What the hell was going on? Why didn’t he know of this? And who is this Shyam? She had never mentioned a Shyam.’ The information, the realization, the questions had resulted in a physical shudder. He could not and would not imagine Khushi with someone else… “Mine” the primal being had once again reared its ugly head.

“Bitiya, Shyam babua would have been a great match for her…” buaji seemed unconvinced herself and a male voice spoke in her stead,

“Payalji, it’s just early wedding jitters,  I am sure, in time, she would have wholeheartedly accepted the arrangement.” The voice tried to persuade, while not sounding convinced himself. And had he heard this voice somewhere? Did he know of any other Shyams? He didn’t have time to organize his thoughts as Payal all but screamed.

“She doesn’t love you Shyamji, why is it so difficult for you to understand?” there was silence. When Payal spoke again she sounded wrecked, “My sister never wanted much in life, but she did want love… Khushi wanted to marry for love, and buaji you wouldn’t even allow that. The threats, the emotional blackmail… did you not see her face last night? This family broke her. And now… now she is gone.”

Arnav panicked. ‘Gone? Where?’

“Hello? Hello? Anyone there?” he screamed into the phone and someone finally answered.

“Hello Arnav ji, sorry I didn’t realize you were on the phone.” It was Khushi’s mother on the line.

“Can I speak with Khushi?” He was blunt, pleasantries take time and he didn’t have any.

“Ji, we had tried calling you, but then we found her letter. Khushi… Khushi is gone.” And she broke, sobbing out loud.

Arnav disconnected the call as he entered Khushi’s lane in Lakshmi Nagar. He couldn’t console anyone now, not even outwardly. He had to get there and talk to someone, get the relevant details as soon as possible. He had to find her. Khushi couldn’t just leave… she couldn’t leave him. Didn’t she know , he couldn’t breathe…

He was lurched back to reality as he neared her house and saw someone leaving.

“What was jeejaji doing here?” Arnav wondered out loud.

                         ***********************************

AN: Thanks for reading. See you soon with the final part. 

Love

Srija :)    

The Diwali of Decisions... An ArHi Fiction

 AN: Hi everyone. I recently re-watched the etire first season of IPKKND (probably for the fourteenth time) and felt inspired to write again after almost 5 years. 

So this is set after the 'almost kiss' diwali episode. Khushi is back home, dazed and confused; Arnav has announced his engagement with Lavanya ; and Khushi is pressured into agreeing to get engaged with Shyam. This is where this Three shot takes off. Hope you like it.

AN2: This work of fiction is a work of my creative process, so please respect my copyright over this original content.

                                                The Diwali of Decisions

                                 

                                 Khushi's Conundrum

‘Who was this broken woman staring back at her?’ As if on instinct she turned back, hoping to find someone behind her. She was alone. She looked into the mirror again, and a pale face with hazel-brown eyes looked back at her. She had scrubbed her face clean of the little make-up she had applied for the Diwali party, but a thin line of slightly faded kohl still framed her eyes. People often said she had beautiful eyes, and even the extreme tiredness within and the slight shadows underneath couldn’t mar their sublime beauty. Only, the mirth was gone.

 

Payal shifted in her sleep and the rustle of her blanket pulled Khushi back to her reality. She moved to her side of the bed and checked to see if her sister was comfortably wrapped and warm. She was. The bed looked cozy and she was tired, but she decided against getting in. She knew sleep wouldn’t come easy tonight, a lot had happened and she needed to take stock of the day. She needed jalebis.

 

She dimmed the light of her room and moved to the kitchen. Some twenty minutes later she was sitting on the stairs in their backyard, a cup of scalding hot tea and a small platter of jalebis by her. The red saree she had worn to the party at Shantivan was loosely hanging from one of the ropes tied across the yard. She had looked pretty in it… no, she looked beautiful… his eyes had conveyed that to her.

 

He had been kind to her these past few days, charming even. He didn’t scream at her when she broke his favorite vase, instead, he took the blame and even assuaged her guilt by claiming it was just fine… nothing special. He had even paid the hospital bills for her Babuji's treatment, without her ever asking for any help. She also knew how difficult it was for him to be emotionally available, and yet he had been there, for her. The Lad governor was slowly turning into her Rajkumar, and that metamorphosis had terrified her… and maybe even excited her? The acceptance of this excitement had been nudging at her and she had closed her heart to it… well, she had honestly tried to, but some of it had seeped in.

 

She realized she had been fingering the payal on her right ankle all this while, and she was reminded of his hands there, his touch… so innocent and yet the most intimate one of her life. She had felt his fingers linger, a fraction of a second longer than absolutely necessary, and she shivered, again. She wanted to know why he had it? Why he had held on to it? But Arnav Singh Raizada didn’t answer questions, especially not those asked by a woman of her ‘aukaat’. She wondered if he had thought of her aukaat when he had looked into her eyes… when he had taken those first steps towards her? She shivered at the mere memory of the moment.

As the cool November air hit her, the shivers intensified. She pulled her dupatta tight around her form. Why didn’t she say anything? Why didn’t she ask him to stop? He would have, she knew that.  She had wanted to, she told herself... Only, when their eyes had met, she glimpsed something in his… No, it wasn’t love. She had seen desire…  Unmasked, unhinged and raw desire. It should have scared her, it should have snapped her out of that timeless bubble and back to three-dimensional reality, only… Only she knew his eyes were simply mirroring hers’. She was hesitant and terrified. She had gripped her saree in hopes of getting a grip on herself. But all she could hear was heartbeats… Hers? His? She couldn’t say. And the flutter at the very core of her being had consumed her. So, when his fingers caressed her face, she had leaned into his touch. And when she felt his breath on her lips, she had waited…

‘Waited for what Khushi? What were you waiting for?’ She hesitated. Accepting the truth, even to herself, would make her wantonness too real, and the Lucknow in Khushi wouldn’t allow that.  But she couldn’t hide anymore, not when in her heart she knew, that had she not clutched her saree and restrained herself, she would have reached for him… She had wanted his kiss.

The realization shook her. She stood up and started pacing along the corridor, the concern for the discomfort of her family members fast asleep in the adjoining rooms, suddenly forgotten. What was she doing? What did it all mean? He had said it didn’t mean anything… that she shouldn’t dream beyond her means. What had she expected him to say? Was it even possible to name their relationship? Could their momentary loss of judgement qualify as a relationship at all, even a nameless one? No, a relationship was what he now had with Lavanya ji, they were engaged to be married, as was she with Shyam ji. Both Lavanya ji and Shyam ji had only ever shown her kindness and this is how she was showing her gratitude? By betraying their trust! When did she become this despicable a human?  How could she let that fleeting moment of passion blind her to every other relationship in her life? This had to stop, right away.

Well, he was engaged to Lavanya ji and everyone in the family had happily accepted their relationship, so her work there was done. It was simple then, she would just never step a foot inside Shantivan, ever again. Problem solved, right? Only, their recent history would say otherwise… It didn’t matter how far or fast she runs in the opposite direction, she would eventually find herself in his arms.  She couldn’t risk it, not anymore, there was too much at stake. And then there was the question of Shyam ji. He was a decent man and deserved someone truthful and honest and loving, and regardless of how hard she tried, she couldn’t see herself ever feeling anything for him… ever loving him, like a wife should her husband.

The last few months had passed-by in a flash, from her Jiji’s broken heart to her father’s paralysis, so much had happened. When did she find the time to weave this web? How could she let everything get so messy? Will she ever be able to sort everything out?

Midnight blue had given way to a much lighter shade and even that was now rimmed by a slight orange, as the first rays of morning light were attempting to pierce through the veil of darkness. Her decision made, she headed back inside. Khushi knew what she had to do…

AN: Thanks for reading this. Please do let me know if you liked it. Part 2 of this three shot (TS) will be published in the next couple of days. 

Arhi FF, Chamkili. Part- 15A. 'Chamkili on Honeymoon'

AN: Okay guys, first of all a little confession, well, I kind of suck at writing intimate scenes, so please be a little kind. However, whatever I have written, I did enjoy writing though I do hope to het as good as some other writers on the forum, some day... Anyway do give it a read and let me know what you thought of it. This one is all Arhi :)

Chamkili on Honeymoon…

Part 15A.

Some Light was seeping inside the room through very narrow slits in the carefully drawn curtains. It was as if she had decided that it won’t adhere to the arrogant wishes of self-assuming humans who thought that could deny her entry at mere whim. Well, she did have to thank Curtains though, her partner in crime. She wondered why humans were so foolish; flaunting what was worthless and even ugly and hiding the eternally beautiful. They fought wars, massacred lives and spilled blood, gloriously unabashed and yet concealed the glory of love in the pits of darkness. No, she was having none of it. If they were arrogant fools then she was an adamant bitch. How dare they deny her the pleasure of watching love at its rawest, crudest… best? How could she ever miss this sight of her small feminine frame encased within his larger masculine one? This was what helped her endure the forever, she was cursed with. She saw his possessive hold around her pliant waist and the look of contentment on her face as she laid there with her face buried in his chest. Her pale skin, tinged with saffron wrapped around his slightly tanned and work roughened form. Light beamed happily and brightly… well a little too brightly perhaps…

Khushi opened her eyes as the bright rays pierced through her shut lashes and she felt the warmth. This warmth, had nothing to do with the sun; no it’s the warmth one feels when they are surrounded by love, and the man whose love was surrounding her, seemed hell bent on suffocating her as well, if his tight hold around her was anything to go by. She smiled indulgently at the blatant possessiveness of her husband and took in the musky scent that was him. His scent mixed with hers, a reminder too potent of their amour, their love and its expression. The saffron tinge increased just a little around her face and neck as she thought back to their expression of love, not too long ago. She smiled and shifted a little so that she could take a closer look at his face. His hold was unyielding, reluctant to let go even a little bit. The child-like innocence on his face seemed so deceptive, almost incongruent to the man who had not too long ago made her whimper and groan and moan and even scream. Her shaitaan Raj-kumar. She smiled at the thought and with as little movement as possible; she maneuvered her body such that with her chin lying on his chest, very near the cleft between his shoulder-blades, she got a very clear and uninterrupted view of his face; every feature, every mole, every pore and every freckle was there in clear sight of her vision.

She wondered how long it had been since she had been engrossed in studying his face. He frowned a little and she found herself wondering at what must be bothering him, for that bothered her as well. The reason turned out to be the same playful beam of light that had not too long ago beamed brightly at her. She wondered what she could do about it. No one and nothing had the right to bother her Laad Governor, well besides her of course. Wriggling out of his hold was impossible without waking him up, she tried shading his face by her hand but that shameless intruder found her way around the wife’s dainty hands, also the position was a little uncomfortable and tiring, and then it struck her…  

Arnav Singh Raizada was in for a pleasant surprise once he opened his eyes. His beautiful and absolutely naked wife was lying half atop him, her hair falling as a curtain, separating them from the rest of the world and into a cocoon that they… nah, that she had managed to create for them. And her eyes, those hazel flavored pools of chocolate were staring right into his own with such love that he couldn’t help but thank that deity he didn’t believe in for bringing this angle in his life. If left to his own devices, he would have done a brilliant job at pushing her away, not that he had let any stone un-turned anyway. If not for her Devi... nah, if not for Khushi’s own love, goodness and faith, he would have pushed away his only chance at happiness, without even realizing what he was losing. These thoughts of woulds and coulds made his chest constrict in pain. She must have seen the pain flit across his eyes, for the next moment he found her lips taking his in a deep, soulful kiss, coveying in her own unique way that they were meant to be… anyways and always. He smiled at the thought and that made Khushi break the kiss and look up at him, searchingly. He just shook his head and then once again took her lips in for another delicious kiss, taking charge this time.

Holding her by the nape of her neck and encircling her waist with his free hand, he pushed her on her back without breaking the kiss for even a second. Her fingers were lost in the lushness of his hair, pulling him closer still, as if the space to even breathe was needed less than his nearness. He broke the kiss and she moaned her displeasure. Trying to pull him back to her, she opened her eyes when she felt slight resistance on his part. What she saw, made her breath hitch, his eyes were fixed on her form and looking down at herself, she discovered that the thin barrier shielding her form from her husband’s hungry gaze had come undone long back. Suddenly feeling conscious of her scandalous posture, she slowly brought her hands to her chest, protecting her modesty the best she could by crossing her hands across her chest, she turned away from her husband… unwittingly offering him her gloriously naked back.    

This nymph of a woman never ceased to surprise him and he loved every moment it. Just a moment ago she was kissing him with such enthusiasm that only lovers can boast of and pulling him to her with such desperation that only lovers suffer from. And in mere seconds she had transformed herself into an elusive, coy virgin.  His Khushi was a magician. His hand moved her hair further to the side and then the tips of his fingers touched her at the base of her spine. His touch was welcomed by a hiss of unbearable pleasure. His fingers traced the expanse of her back, gently… very gently moving towards her shoulders, playing her body like a flute and her body responded to his touch, dancing to his tune… like always. 

His gentle touches were the toughest to endure. She squirmed in want and restlessness, the feeling of being there and yet not quite... Upon finally reaching her shoulder, Arnav paused to pepper random kisses around her nape and back. He lightly bit the juncture between her neck and shoulders and she hissed in pleasurable pain. Gently licking the spot, he soothed the pain while keeping the pleasure alive. What he was unaware of, however, was that at that moment it was pleasure that was unbearably torturous for his currently high-strung wife. And yet when he tried pulling her back to him, he felt slight resistance from her. Of course he knew that it was more out of a sense of societal propriety than any genuine unwillingness on her part. He bit her right ear-lobe and she hissed again clutching the bed-sheet more firmly, trying and failing miserably at reigning in her natural wantonness. Middle-class inhibitions invading the privacy of bed-rooms was not really an unheard of scenario. And yet, Arnav Singh Raizada had just as much respect for the norms of societal propriety as sun had for man made digital watches.

“Oh come-on Khushi, it’s not like I haven’t seen all this before. In fact sex is a part of our everyday routine now.” She heard his frustrated complaint but couldn’t see the teasing glint in his eyes and of course as Arnav had mentally  predicted, she turned to him in a flash. Her naked glory facing him, all thoughts of proper and improper lost.

“Kya! To yeh sab aapke liye sirf routine hai?” she asked hurt. “Waise it is all my fault. Despite knowing you so well I still fell in love with the Laad Governor, so how can I complain now. Of course having se… I mean loving me is just like watching that blasted business channel for you. Laad Governor kahin ke! Why Devi Maiya, why me. Did you not like all the jalebis I served you as prasad for the last nineteen years of my life, that now my husband thinks that se… I.. I mean love is just a part of his routine...” Khushi continued with her rambling and Arnav sat there both amused and painfully aroused. Khushi, angry and naked, all at the same time was too good an opportunity to let go of. And so without alerting her, he moved his face closer to her breast. She felt his hot breath around her nipples and they pebbled almost instantaneously, her inhibitions back. But Arnav wasn’t going to give her another chance to back off and so firmly grasping her hands with his, he pushed those back into the sheet and then looking into her eyes said,

“loving you is as much a part of my routine as breathing is.” And without waiting for another moment, he had taken a round, alluring, juicy, nipple into the hot cavern of his mouth…He would never get enough of it and he was pretty sure that she had no complaints. 

AN: Hey Guys! I hope you liked the update and if you did, please do make it a point to go back on the IF thread and press the like tab under the update, it would really mean a lot to me. Secondly, there are two more pure Arhi honeymoon updates left, so keep watching this space for that. And finally, there is a poll on the top right hand corner of this, please participate there for which ever story wins the poll  shall be updated next and too within 5 days. :) Do drop in your comments on the update, I always wait for it. Oh, and in the fist section of the update, I have used the literary technique of personification and it is the voice of Light that you hear in the first section. :)

Lots of love,

Srija :)

Arhi SS: Untouched. Part 3.

                                      

AN: Hi guys! So I am finally back with another update of Untouched. The reason I am writing this note is that I have decided to convert Untouched into an SS, though earlier I had intended it to be a TS. Well, the thing is when I start writing as in actually start typing at my system, the story gets out of my hand and starts weaving itself and so it very often happens that my stories start as something but end up being something very different. So, my apologies,  but try and bear with this one for a bit longer. I promise, it won't be very long.

                           Untouched

                               Part 3

He didn’t know how he ended up there, right by her side… her angelic face just a touch away, the temptation growing stronger with every heartbeat. And as the rhythm of his heart pulsed beyond control, so did his fingers, now feathering the contours of her face, both past any rhyme or reason. As he felt the silk of her skin under the tip of his fingers he was reminded of Coleridge’s immortal verse, “Water, water, everywhere,/ Nor any drop to drink.” He could finally relate to the Mariner and all those sailors… dying of lack of something that was in abundance and at an arm’s length… thirsting for water… while being surrounded by it. Ah! The mockery life makes of us mere mortals. Here he was less than a breath separating him from all he desired, all he thirsted for, all he was dying for… and yet he knew he was destined to die with parched lips and scorched soul. Lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice the slight frown lines marring the smoothness of her forehead and the next moment he was looking deep into those shining pools of hazel. And once again he was thrown back in time…

--------------------------------------------

Arnav Singh Raizada was known for his very and at times dangerously practical approach towards everyone and everything in life. Every single idea that he conceived took months of mulling over before any real action happened. Every complexity and contraction; adversary and adversity had to be taken in account. In fact, at times it seemed like he was challenging fate by taking his life in his own hands, disregarding the presence of anything external and unrelated. And that was his mistake, for don’t they say, ‘don’t tempt fate’. Well, fate retaliated and in the last few hours he found himself desiring the woman he couldn’t have; breaking his relationship with the woman he could have but didn’t want, not anymore and probably never had; willingly occupying the spot that had been vacated… nah, rejected not too long ago; and willingly taking the woman who had very recently fallen from the state of societal grace for no fault of her own. And right now he stood waiting for her… waiting to hold her in his arms… to finally touch her and claim her… mark her as his territory. And that was how Khushi found him when she entered the room, leaning against the window, his posture calm as ocean but a tsunami stirring in his eyes…Waiting… Waiting for their wedding night to finally begin.

She had all but stumbled inside, as if someone had forced her in… as if she would be anywhere but here at that moment. She had looked at him once and then turned around moving towards the door; the door had been shut the very next moment and locked from outside it seemed. And so she stood frozen. Her back was turned towards him and so he could not see her face. But the stiffness of her posture screamed her displeasure, her discomfort at being forced to share her intimate space with him. Discomfort and displeasure were very very mild terms to express what Khushi was feeling at the moment and Arnav was to discover that soon. He took a step towards her and then stopped as she had turned towards him, alarm evident in her big innocent eyes. The way she had clutched the sides of her very ornate lehenga and stumbled taking a few hurried steps back towards the closed door had nothing to do with the nervousness of a bashful new bride. No, it was the naked fear of being chased by a predator or worse, being trapped with one… for the next seven lives.

The fear that came with the realization that tonight she was a dish that would soon be devoured by her husband… a dish… that is what she was, to be traded for fortune and served for honor and devoured for pleasure. And all this for others, after all who ever gave a single thought to the dish, or showed any concern about how it might feel… for dishes were not supposed to feel. Not the deer satiating the hunger of a lion, not the chicken kabab gracing a nawabs banquet and not the meager serving of mashed potatoes in front of a tired rag-picker. She saw a similar hunger stirring in the eyes of her husband of a few hours, a man she hadn’t even known existed before tonight.

_______________________

Khushi looked at her husband of one year. The hunger was there again, the hunger that made her feel like she was some exotic foreign dish that her husband ate with so much relish at those numerous parties. What was it called? Ah, Lazania, yes that was what he loved. She had tried learning the recipe from Miss Julie, her English tutor but the final product had been a little to dry at first and a little too gooey finally and so she had just dumped it in the dustbin, never letting her husband get even a whiff of her adventure with the foreign delicacy. She remembered seeing that hunger in his eyes when their eyes had first met, while she was sitting beside Shyam on their wedding alter… She remembered seeing it when she had first entered her room that night as an unrecognizable outsider, as Mrs. Khushi Singh Raizada… The hunger was still there and she would get a glimpse of it every now and then, sometimes when he was lost in his thoughts and sometimes when he thought she wasn’t looking. But it was too strong, too tangible to go unnotice. And it was in those moments, those scarce stolen moments when she thought, nah, she knew that she still existed in his world, that she was an actual tangible part of it. Mostly it just felt like no one really noticed her.

She saw a flicker of sudden realization in his eyes and then he had straightened, distanced himself from her. Taking her cue from it she too stood up and then turned towards the kitchen to heat up the food. The heat between them hung there, unmentioned, untampered, and untouched… but there. He saw her toe as she turned towards the kitchen and noticed that she had painted it red today. It was the first thing he had noticed about her, well the only thing that he could have seen of a woman who was another man’s intended, a red painted toe peeking at him invitingly from under her bridal ensemble and he knew it then that he was a goner. But then, fate had played its twisted game and the next he saw her toes playing peek-a-boo with him was when he had already marked her his, well at least according to the societal conventions he had. Arnav, however, believed in the more primal system of markings…

_________________

The slight shivering of her fragile form and the naked horror of hopelessness in her eyes pierced through the shroud of madness that had engulfed him for the night and for the very first time that night Arnav saw Khushi for what she really was, a lost terrified child. A sixteen year old, who was not even considered eligible for giving her consent to the silliest of decisions like whether or not Congress should form the central government, no, she’d have to wait another two years to cast her vote and yet, she was married. Everyone but her, had been involved in taking the biggest decision of her life, a life that was still getting accustomed to the rhythm of breathing… and was now reduced to the bare mechanics of it.

________________

Her whispery movements brought him back to the huge antique oak-wood dining-table, that looked like it could belong no where else but in that huge antique Raizada           drawing-room. She was busy arranging the various smaller bowls in his plate and then serving liberal portions of curry, dal and sugar-free kheer in them, alongside plain rice and ghee-less rotis. He knew that she knew he would be removing a lot of it from his plate to the extra plate she had kept near his (which he was sure she had kept there for the same reason). And somehow the fact that she always served him the formal liberal quota of food despite being aware of his appetite clearly pronounced the distance in their socially approved and assumed intimacy. She sat beside him and started serving food on her plate. The Raizadas didn’t approve of this sort of companionship and camaraderie between husbands and wives, but Arnav had remained adamant and Khushi had bowed… she anyway had to bow, this way or that. Just like she had had to that night… their wedding night…  

To be continued...

Hope to see your reactions on this one, any and all forms of it are more than welcome.

Love,

Srija Singh :)

New Arhi SS: Highway to Hell. Part 1.

           Highway to Hell…

Current Day:
It all happened in the expanse of one day, one bloody freaking awesome day. One fucking day fucked up her entire world

She wasn’t a bad person… or a bad sister… or a bad daughter… Or so she would have said… Nope not just said but actually believed with all her heart and mind up until this morning and everyone would have vouched for her, she was more than sure. Heck, they would vouch for her even now for they still lay wrapped in the warm cocoon of ignorance. Looking at the happy content faces of her mom and dad, she felt a sharp pang of envy and in that moment she had an epiphany, ignorance indeed was bliss, that Gray dude got this crap right after all. And all those people who advocated knowledge were bloody sadists. Well whatever, she had seen the light and there was no going back now. Khushi Gupta had made a deal with the Devil himself…

One Month Ago:

“Jiji, are you absolutely sure about this?” she stood there listening to whatever hr Jiji had to say and then continued.

“Jiji, promise me you are not doing this under any kind of pressure.”

“Okay Jiji, if you say so, I’ll just take your word for it... for now. Anyways I’ll be there in a weeks time, we’ll talk then and I want to know everything, such evasive lines wouldn’t do then, okay?” she kept her phone down and for the millionth time in the past month pondered over the name, Raizada. But there was nothing that she could do about it, not for a while at least, not from New-York.
-----------------------------------------------------------

One Week Ago:

It wasn’t until the next month that Khushi finally arrived at the Indira Gandhi International Airport. Her family was there to receive her however, she had also expected a certain Mr. Raizada to be there, after all wasn’t he her would be Jeejaji? And wasn’t he supposed to pamper her and win her favors and all that crap they showed in cheesy Bollywood movies. Was he really the Dickhead, her initial instinct had said he was? Well, she’ll find out now and pretty soon too, for now that she was in Delhi, where would he go? Or as they say, he could run but he could not hide. And if he was going to get married to her darling Jiji, then he’d have to impress a certain Khushi Kumari Gupta first. And with just one week left for their wedding she would have to be quick with both the planning and the execution.

It was time for their face-off finally, Khushi Kumari Gupta would soon meet Arnav Singh Raizada… a bloody sister stealer.

“What the hell is wrong with these people?” Khushi wondered for the millionth time in the space of just two hours. She could hardly believe that all the over-dramatic crap that she had only seen in Karan Johar’s and Yash Raj’s cinema {which btw, she was forced to watch, first by her Khan crazy sister and later by her best friend, NK, who was also well, a Khan maniac} was actually happening right in front of her eyes, in her own bloody house. “Why the hell was everything so pink and blue?” And the color theme that had been finalized for the wedding didn’t give her much respite either… “Red and gold… like really? Could it get anymore Ekta Kapoorish?” And then there were all these aunties and uncles, who had nothing better to do but try and fix her up with theirs sons or their son’s cousins or their son’s cousin’s cousin, well practically any single man in his mid twenties, who shared community ties with her. Khushi was tolerating all this madness for the only person whose big deer eyes and puppy-dog pout could get her to do practically anything… her elder sister Payal Gupta. And well, also there was this added motivation of meeting her Jeejaji, well actually the eagerness was melting a bit too fast since  this evening, a man who would agree for an arranged marriage and especially these bloody pink and blue drapes shouldn’t be all that hard to figure out.

She got a mock-tail from the bar. She wasn’t stupid enough to drink in front of her very puritanical parents, who had of course set up a bar on the occasion for what would the society people say otherwise, but would never in this life approve of their daughters even smelling it… typical! Hiding it was an option but then Khushi was not an addict, no, she knew how to keep things under control and so the risk out-weighing pleasure, made it a non-profitable option. Rebellion, on the other hand, though fine sometimes was mostly just stupid and Khushi for one always preferred the smart way. So, there she was, at the bar, swirling her drink and giving some final touches to that faceless image she had been building up the whole day. Her sister had outright denied her any pictures for she said it would build up the suspense. “Suspense my ass!” She mumbled irritably. Payal could really get on your nerves sometimes; she just hoped that the loser she was marrying could handle it. Well, Payal could deny her the picture, but Khushi had a very functional sense of logic and a very creative imagination which she put to work right that moment. 

‘Suits, well what was a business man without his suit; spectacles, probably square and gold-rimmed as of-course nothing portrayed intelligence and maturity better than a defective eye-sight; a little bit of a pouch, now didn’t it signify prosperity; and then the cherry on top, the widely prevalent and highly idealized ‘yes mom’ attitude, for who else would agree to such ridiculous color schemes.’ She didn’t realize when her silent contemplation turned into audible mumbling and neither did she notice the shadowy frame behind her.

“Jiji said he is 31, must be some uncleji type and of course, who else agrees to a marriage without even dating for a bit? Poor Jiji, Devi Maiya knows what she is settling for and she is so young, barely 24 and getting married to some bloody uncleji. So unfair!”  Khushi was busy grumbling and failed to notice the stern gaze narrowed on her. Lost in her thoughts, she also failed to see the slightly raised platform and tripped, expecting cold floor, she clenched her eyes but instead felt a warm presence around her.

She slowly opened her eyes. Sure she wasn’t falling anymore, but now she was drowning… both helpless and happy she didn’t even attempt to fake a struggle as those chocolate brown orbs threatened to consume her. His eyes narrowed over hers and hers flickered in response. A little too far-gone already she took a moment to collect herself and then finally straightened her body moving out of his arm’s circle. ‘Was there a little reluctance she felt in his body?’ Khushi mused.

A little physical distance was much needed to make her brain functional again and once it was at her disposal she finally gave the Adonis in front of her a once-over. ‘My my! Things aren’t looking too bad now, are they? Seems like I just stumbled over my spice choice of the week.’ And with that thought she smirked sexily at the devilishly sexy and she could bet, deliciously yummy young man in front of her.

AN: Hey Guys! Now, this is going to be a short one. six to eight parts long and very concrete. I have decided to make it more action oriented this time. Well, actions are rendered implausible and in fact impossible without emotions, so there will definitely be an exploration of that as well. However, compared to my other stories, this one will be fast and focused. Hope you guys will like it. Do let me know what you thought of it.

Love,

 Srija :) 

Arhi TS: Untouched. Part I

                                 

                                 Arhi TS:                                  

                                                     UNTOUCHED

Note: This story is placed in the early 1980s, around the time when Indira Gandhi was ruling.

                               Part I

Her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, a painful lump in her throat. And yet no one paid any heed, actually noting really seemed out of place about it. And so Payal entertained the guests, while Madumati and Garima bustled around making sure everything was perfect on this big day. And she just sat there trying to hold back tears and still secretly waiting for someone to really... actually ask her the reason.

Her hair was tied in an intricate pattern, heavy gold and kundan ornaments adorned her. An elaborate tika that covered half her forehead; heavy earrings that might seem pretty to others but were to her just inconvenient; and a grand family heirloom necklace that seemed intent on breaking her delicate neck. Everything about her screamed ROYAL and that's exactly what the Gupta's had intended. The Gupta family of Lucknow traced their lineage from the Gupta Dynasty of the classical era. It was a distant relation, they admitted, but one existed nonetheless. And who could challenge their claim, for no one of the ancient ages was alive to bear witness and the widely prevalent practices of polygamy and courtesans and concubines just complicated the whole thing. And anyway, no one really bothered, neither the outsiders nor the family members, for it was convenient this way. Belief is what matters, neither lies nor truths.

And so underneath the lies and truths, beliefs and customs, the entire faade of Royalty and an elaborate bridal ensemble, laid buried a Khushi Kumari Gupta, all but sixteen. She felt suffocated; she wanted to shout, to scream, to hide, to run away but the society had given its verdict that Khushi Kumari Gupta was going to be sacrificed today on the altar of societal propriety, and this judge never reconsidered his judgments, for he was supreme to all courts. After all what was she, just another girl amongst millions of such girls and women who were expected to follow the rules. Oh they were very simple actually, like live for others, die for others; bear the burden of what they called honor and yet be labeled as the weaker sex; just mechanically follow the orders of your male counterparts; never question; never expect; just submit and of course never ever live.

Khushi was different, unlike many other of her friends she chose to live. She was beautiful, not in a conventional way though, her beauty was more than just symmetrical arrangement of attractive features, a glow seemed to surround her at all times, an aura of free-spiritedness. She loved chasing butterflies in the garden, she would catch them... only to set them free. She relished food but rarely cooked and even when she did, her expertise was limited to chai and jalebis, she never even bothered to learn much, "Amma hai na." she'd say and then flit away joining a group of hooligans who had terrorized the entire neighborhood and of course, she was their leader. Hide and seek was her favorite sport, for she was the best at it, she was so brilliant at hiding that her record of never ever being a seeker remained unblemished. And then one day... she was found.

Out of nowhere, she found herself in front of some unfamiliar people, all whose gazes were fixed on her and suddenly the dupatta that she considered a nuisance seemed as her sole protector, for her entire family that was seated in the same room did noting to stop all the staring and were in fact having that hopeful look in their eyes that said they wished she passed the trial. The short, stout lady who hadn't diverted her gaze from her form for a long while, asked her to bring to her the plate of rasmalai, that was in fact within her arms reach and as moved to get the plate to the lady, she could feel her gaze scan her form all the more thoroughly. And, yet that wasn't the worst part. She could also feel his eyes on her, his gaze full of something she couldn't completely understand and yet it scared her. But more than that she felt disgusted... disgusted with herself as his gaze halted for the longest while on her breasts and butts and suddenly the dupatta wasn't enough. And before she knew it, she was engaged to the man she had just seen... yes only seen, because meeting would imply talking a little to the very least.

Her eyes were wild with fear but there was some hope in them as well as she looked at the faces of her loved ones, begging them to understand her, to save her or to the very least explain what was happening. And then she was shocked out of her trance as his hand grabbed hers, putting a rather humongous ring on her delicate finger and then giving her hand a-not-so-gentlemanly-squeeze. Khushi had looked at the stranger in front of her, unmasked fear dancing in those innocent eyes but the next moment she had looked away... looked away in disgust and fear as he had licked his lips, giving her a sly smile and his dark eyes sending some message... something that she didn't quite understand and yet it terrified her, probably her female instincts had sensed danger. His knuckle had brushed against her thigh as he got up and she felt sick in her stomach, pushing back the bile that rose in her throat she had taken blessings from the elders, trying hard to stretch her lips in what she hoped was a convincing impression of a smile... one that didn't reach her eyes... but then, would be brides of sixteen were supposed to smile that way, weren't they? The stout woman stood complaining to Garima that they were not very satisfied with the girl for she didn't have full grown breasts and that was a priority for their family required an heir at the earliest. Khushi was standing alone in a corner, behind the door and yet she had pulled the dupatta a little more, listening to the conversation and yet absorbing nothing.

The following few weeks had crossed in a whirl-wind with Khushi trying to make sense of things that made no sense. She had tried asking her Amma, Babuji, Bhai and everyone else that why were they getting her married off so soon, didn't they love her any more and they had all said that it was because they loved her so much that they wanted the best for her... a best that everyone but Khushi wanted for herself. 'Wasn't it supposed to be her life?' her mind had screamed at her but she had turned a deaf ear to that voice for good women weren't supposed to think... much less express it.

And so here she was, a month later, dressed up beautifully in an extravagant attire, all prepared to be sacrificed on an equally extravagant altar.

"The barat is here! The groom has arrived!" Preeto announced to everyone and they had all flitted out of the room to get a glimpse of the groom and the barat. Khushi had seen many brides, shy and nervous and yet excited to get a glimpse of their soon to be lords... why didn't she feel that way. She knew the answer.

The sudden loneliness brought back memories that she desperately wanted to forget... like... like a bad dream that one tries to shake off as soon as they open their eyes, only... she knew she would be living that nightmare every single moment of her life... that her eyes were never closed... that there won't be a single second of respite from that nauseating feeling that engulfed her whenever his eyes or his hands touched her... crawled on her... not a moment of respite until she finally closed her eyes.

It had been just yesterday, her entire family had gone off to the local temple where they were supposed to meet the groom's family for some ritual. Her haldi already done, she had to stay back, for a bride is not supposed to leave the threshold of her house after haldi, until her bidai. She was glad in fact for that little alone time, for ever since the marriage had been fixed someone or the other was always hovering around her trying to teach her cooking, sewing, knitting, chicken-kari work or even some wifely-tricks and other such good bahu things. So she let out a relieved sigh on finding her house to herself for once. She prepared herself a plate of hot crispy jalebis, she was not supposed to have anything salty until after the wedding and so Khushi had free license to have as much sweet as she could, and well her 'could' was limitless and she was not letting go of the opportunity.

She was lost in her thoughts, unconsciously munching on the jalebis when someone knocked the door breaking her trance. She had opened the door to find her fiance and soon to be husband. A shiver ran down her spine and her hands automatically pulled her dupatta more fully across her chest, where his eyes were fixed at the moment. He had stepped inside and her feet took her back on their own volition. When she had returned a while later with a bottle of ganga jal, for he had said that Amma had sent him to get the purifying water, she found him standing against the bolted door of the inner living room, a sly smile across his lips and pure lust in his dark inhuman eyes. She tried to run on an impulse, when she felt him restraining her as he caught her along her waist. He had pushed her on the couch, the ganga jal splayed over the floor as her head hit the wooden corners of the antique sofa, her vision blurring. And yet she had cried and thrashed violently like a lamb in a slaughter-house, earning a hard slap across her face and she had stilled, as fear like never before consumed her. But no, you don't give up so easily when your life depends on it and so Khushi fought, she fought with all her might... with anything and everything... with her teeth and claws. She could feel his restless hands crawling across her slim figure as he tried pulling off her dupatta and she clutched at it with all her might, calling her Guardian Angel her Devi Maiya for help. He had savagely pulled her hair and she had let out an almost animalistic shriek as she felt unbearable pain. He was trying to tear off her kurti when Payal had dashed inside the room tearing the animal off her. He had let out a frustrated growl and had left saying something like who would save her the coming night, while she had just hugged her Bhabhi, crying her heart out.

Khushi had cried for a long time, hiding her face in Payal's lap attempting to muffle those violent shrieks that threatened to explode through her so very often... that threatened to disrupt the delusion of harmony that the society wrapped itself in, unmasking the savagery that was its reality... naked reality of this civilized world. When she had calmed a bit, on the exteriors at least, Payal had finally divulged the reality of her marriage which was noting more than a business transaction. The implementation of the new land division law had stripped the Gupta's off most of their zamindari estate and this matrimonial alliance was but a desperate attempt  to maintain the façade of 'almost royalty' that they had inherited... how did it matter if a breathing living girl was to sacrificed on the altar of this façade .. after all it was for the greater cause. That night for the first time Khushi, who had been hitherto kept ignorant about the physical aspect of life and was taught to scorn on even the word love and feel ashamed about her body, was suddenly exposed to the raw physicality of the relationship shared between a husband and his wife. The veil had finally lifted but the shackles of shame had bound her all the more strongly, reeling the life out of her, almost. She had felt the clasp of fear and disgust getting excruciatingly painful by the minute as the image of his slithery hands on her body, moving, touching, groping filled her mind. She had asked Payal to leave her alone, for it was too much to absorb in a single day.  But fatigue had soon claimed her and she had fallen into a dreamless sleep, after days of sleepless nights, preparing herself for the many more nightmarish nights that were soon to follow.

She saw someone nudge her, lifting her up, making her stand, arranging the heavy bridal attire around her, something about the auspicious hour, muhrat or she didn't know... She saw women almost dragging her towards the wedding altar... she saw him give her a sickening smile as she was seated next to him... she saw all this as if from a distance... she felt noting... Her Devi Maiya had finally come to help her devotee... Khushi Kumari Gupta... soon to be Khushi Manohar Jha was granted the boon of numbness.

PS: Hope you guys liked this new story. Please do let me know what you thought of it.

Love 

Srija :)