Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - 14

Chapter 14 

Very clever, thought Khushi, realizing exactly what he had done.

Arnav realised that Akash thought her a gold-digger, and had promptly put in steps to disabuse him, to make it seem that their marriage was very real. Smiling inwardly at the astuteness of the man she had married, she followed him up the stairs to where the door was being held open by a servant.

Behind the servant, sat an old man in a wheelchair. As she looked at him, Khushi realized he was not so old in age as he looked at first glance. It was his spirit that was old, that had aged him prematurely. He sat slouched in the chair, his head down, his back bent. His legs fell uselessly to the ground, dangling limply.

"Dad, this is khushi," said Arnav, quietly. "I told you about her. We just got married in the Satyanarayan temple a little while ago."
Khushi bent and touched her new father-in-law's feet, her sari draped over her head. The old man's hand came up to her head for a moment and then fell back. His face didn't change, his eyes empty. "God bless you," he muttered. "May you bring some happiness back into this sorrowing house."

His tone was expressionless. It showed neither happiness nor displeasure. He turned the wheelchair, and wheeled it back into the house. Khushi followed, Arnav's hand firmly under her arm. Akash followed, holding one of Khushi's bags. The servant held the other. The older Mr. Raizada nodded to another servant, a woman, who stood in the huge drawing room awaiting them. The woman was middle-aged, and looked sharp, but kind. She raked Khushi with a piercing gaze. The old man spoke again.

"This is Shantibai. She has been with this house for a long time. She came with my wife as part of her dowry, and helped bring up the boys. She is like a mother to them. Shantibai, the keys, please."

Shantibai took out a large bunch of keys, and handed them to Mr. Raizada.
Khushi came forward, but instead of taking the keys, she bent and touched Shantibai's feet. The older woman looked completely taken aback, then her face softened. She put out her hands and raised the younger girl, then took the keys from Mr. Raizada's hands and offered them to Khushi.

"You are the mistress of the house now," she said, softly. "This house has need of you. Take them."

Khushi shook her head. "I am too new, too young," she replied. "When you feel I am worthy of the responsibility, then you give them to me."

Shantibai shook her head. "No, my child," she said firmly. "These keys were with Arnav beta's mother till she died. She gave them to me when she was going to the hospital for both the babies with Poonam. I returned them the first time she came back with Radhika. Now I have been waiting to give them back to the mistress of this house. I have never kept them, and I don't want to."

Khushi looked at Arnav, who nodded, his face approving. She bit her lips together, then held out both her hands for the keys. Shantibai gave them to her, and Khushi held them to her head for an instant in a gesture of reverence, and then hooked them into the waistband of her sari.

"Where's Radhika?" asked Akash, suddenly, his tone harsh, and everyone looked startled.

"In her room," his father answered. "Let Khushi settle in, then she can meet her."

Arnav nodded to another boy, who appeared suddenly, and took the bag from Akash. Goodness, how many servants did these people employ? Wondered Khushi, dazedly, as she was introduced to the newcomer as the 'new mistress'. Then Arnav led her, gently but firmly, up to 'their room', followed by the two men servats carrying Khushi's bags.

 The servants put the bags down, and left. Arnav closed the door behind them. Then he turned to look at Khushi. Khushi looked back at him, her heart beating rather fast. This was the first time they had been alone since she had agreed to marry him, and she couldn't help remembering that they were now legally man and wife. He had promised that it would be in name only, but …

But it appeared that their marital relationship was the last thing on Arnav's mind. He took a deep breath looked at Khushi and smiled, a smile of satisfaction.

"That went off rather well," he said. "Well done, Khushi. Dad seems happy enough - as happy as he can be. You were good with Shantibai. I forgot to tell you - she can be quite a dragon. You handled her very well."

Khushi smiled uncertainly. For her, the change in situation was huge, and she was finding it difficult to take in everything all at once. Not least, the relationship with her brand new husband. But obviously for Arnav, nothing much had changed. He had  offered her a job, the job of counsellor to his damaged family, and for him, that was all it was. That was all she was. A counsellor. A psychologist, a therapist. Nothing more. Definitely not a wife in any sense of the word. He obviously found nothing strange or awkward about their situation, about having to share a room as husband and wife.  He had made the terms of their marriage clear ... no, strike that - she had made the terms of their marriage clear, and he had agreed. But she apparently hadn't thought everything through quite as thoroughly as she should have, she thought wryly. Least of all, the more intimate implications of living as husband and wife in a large family. 

Because she could not think of anything to say, she looked around the room. It was very large - it was actually a small suite of sorts. They were standing in the sitting area, where a comfortable-looking sofa and easy chairs were arranged around a beautiful Persian rug, all in matching shades of rust and cream. To one side was a large TV and music system, and two large wooden bookshelves, filled with books. At one side was a small niche, which Khushi saw was a mini kitchenette, with a small refrigerator, a kettle and toaster, and a few cups, plates and glasses in the glass-fronted cupboard above the counter. The sitting area was separated from the bedroom by sheer curtains, which fell the length and width of the room. Running the length of both the rooms, and facing the outside, were glass doors, which led into a private terrace, which, she could see, was well kept, with plants, and a wicker sofa and chairs, and a swing seat. The whole suite was simply furnished, with nothing overpowering or huge, yet it was in exquisite taste. Khushi wondered who had furnished the rooms. They had a distinctly feminine touch. The rust and cream colour scheme, the plants outside, the paintings on the walls,  the well-matched furniture - all had been assembled and coordinated with great care and unerring taste. She avoided looking past the sheer curtains into the sleeping area. She wasn't mentally ready to handle thinking about those arrangements yet.

She looked at Arnav. "It's beautiful," she said, sincerely. "Did your sister-in-law do this place? She had wonderful taste."

"No," he replied, blandly. "I did. I like colors."

She was so surprised she gaped at him, and he grinned. "What's the matter? Can't believe that I could furnish a room? One of the companies I run deals with furniture and antiques, you know. I like the stuff."

"I didn't know," she said slowly. "I don't even know what you do, actually. Whatever you do, you obviously do it well. This house … this place … it's all so different from what I expected." She gestured vaguely around the room, the understated opulence making her feel suddenly inadequate.

Arnav looked at her narrowly. "You knew I was in business. You knew I had enough money for your brother to steal some of it. Why the surprise?"

Khushi shrugged her shoulders, helplessly. "I didn't know you were so … rich! I … I … Arnavji, how will I fit into a place like this? A house, a family, like this? Your brother thinks I'm out for your money, and I can't blame him for thinking that. Your father is going to feel the same way. I … you shouldn't have made me do this. It won't work, Arnavji. I don't know how people like you live. I can't fit in. I can't …"

"You can and you will," he interrupted. "Akash will think what I want him to think. Dad is not thinking much, anyway, or feeling much. Don't worry so much, Khushi. This will work. It has to work." He ended bleakly, and looked away from her at a photograph on the cabinet.

She crossed over to look at the picture with him.

"Is this them?" she asked softly. He swallowed slightly and nodded.

"Yes. That was taken just before Poonam, my bhabhi, got pregnant again. That's my mother. That's Ajay, my middle brother, the one who died. That's Poonam. The rest you've met. And that," his voice deepened with emotion. "That's my little Radhika. She was just three years old then. She's four and a half now."

Khushi looked at the adorable little girl in the picture, at the elegant older lady and the fair, pretty younger one, and at the man next to her, so much like Arnav that they looked almost like twins. Akash was on one side, a younger Akash, a smiling, happier Akash. So different from the surly young man she had met earlier in the day. And their father, also smiling proudly, was a tall, proud figure, beaming with delight at his whole family, including the man who stood next to him, his eldest son, Arnav, also smiling gently, but with a more serious expression than the other two young men.

Khushi felt a lump come into her throat. Never again would this family scene be repeated. Death had snatched away half the players, and would never give them back. No wonder the living were taking so long to recover from the loss.

She looked away. "I'm sorry, Arnav," she said, softly, with difficulty. "Seeing their faces makes them real suddenly. It makes me realise what you all are going through every day."

He looked at her, and suddenly he was not so strong any more. "It will work, won't it?" he said, his tone suddenly unsure, pleading. "Khushi, please, you have to make this work."

It was a complete role reversal, and Khushi was taken aback. He always seemed so strong, so confident and sure of himself. It was as though he didn't have any weakness, any hesitation. But suddenly, he was showing her a new side of himself, a human side, she thought ironically, and was surprised that she didn't like his weakness, was actually upset by it. She felt like wiping away the worry from his face, his eyes.

"It will," she said, with a confidence she was far from feeling. "We'll make it work. It is my job, Arnav, and I've always been told I'm pretty good at it."

He squared his shoulders, his confidence back,the moment of weakness dropped as though it had never existed. "Well, then, ma'am. Shall we get to work?"

She straightened her back, and nodded.

"Let's go."