Kaisey yeh Rishtey - 16 & 17

Chapter 16 & 17

Might as well get to work right away, thought Khushi, as she entered her own set of rooms after dinner. Her new husband, Arnav Singh Raizada, or Arnavji, as she had started to call him in her mind, waited for his father to retire from the dining room and leave them alone, and then told her that he needed to do some work, and stayed back in his study. She was grateful for his consideration in giving her some privacy. She did feel odd entering the large room alone, but was reassured to find that her clothes had been unpacked and already settled into the large wardrobe, and her simple comb and brush, as well as her few cosmetics were laid out neatly on the dressing chest. This was her room too now ... she had to get used to the thought. 

For a few moments Khushi looked around the room, admiring it again. This was going to be home for her for the next year, give or take a month or so. After meeting the Raizada family, or the broken remaining fragments that remained of it, she felt a little overwhelmed at the enormity of the task that lay ahead of her, and more than a little uncomfortable at the deception she was undertaking to accomplish that task. I'm good at my work, she had told Arnav confidently. But this was more than just work in her hospital, which she could leave behind at the end of the day. She would be living day in and day out with these people, with this family. It would be hard to maintain her usual clinical detachment, and see them only as patients. And how would she maintain the deception she and Arnav were undertaking? 

Biting her lip, Khushi pushed the unwelcome doubts to the back of her mind, and purposefully blanked her mind. She needed to stay in control, treat the family as her patients, and follow her usual treatment plans for them. And she would do it. Living here for the duration meant she was free of her Baba and even more, her brother, and that could only help her, not hinder her. Arnav was a very decent man, a thorough gentleman, she knew that instinctively from the limited interactions she had had with him. Living with him would not be a problem. In fact, her mouth twisted wryly, it would be far easier than living with her brother had been, especially the last few years. She firmly refused to think in any other direction, especially about how it would be to share a room with a very attractive man, for months on end. No ... that was a dangerous line of thought ... she was not going there ... 

Khushi made herself busy changing out of her heavy sari into a new nightdress, also bought by Arnav, and stripped down the covers of the bed. Then she stood staring down at it blankly. Arnav had said this would be a marriage in name, but she didn't see another bed anywhere. 

She shook her head briskly, dismissing those unwelcome doubts, and went to look again at the family picture. On the sideboard under it, were some photograph albums. She picked them up, and sitting down on the bed comfortably, she began to go through the pictures slowly, stopping now and then to slip a photograph out of its place.

By the time Arnav came to bed, she had accumulated a small pile. So immersed was she in her job, that she barely looked up when he came into the room. He looked at her, saw her clothes neatly folded on the chair, the small pile of jewelry on the dressing table, and a slight smile came to his face. He said nothing, but disappeared into the bathroom. When he came out, he was in his pajamas. He came and sat down on the edge of the bed, next to Khushi.

"What on earth are you doing?" he asked softly.

Khushi jumped a little, and drew back, taken aback to find him so close. A strand of hair fell across her face, and he lifted a hand to brush it back. His touch startled her, and she bit her lip, willing herself not to flinch.

"I'm getting to work," she spoke briskly, trying to hide the slight tremor in her voice. "I need to make some changes. With your permission." She added quickly, and Arnav grinned at her obvious last minute thought.

"Why do I get this feeling," he mused, "that you've made up your mind very definitely what to do? My permission is for form's sake only, isn't it?"

"Well," Khushi defended, flushing a tad guiltily "you've hired me for a job, and I have to do it the best way I know how. And the sooner I start, the better. I need to start with Radhika, Arnavji. Once she is better, and happier, the whole house will be happier."

He nodded, his face becoming serious. "You're very right. But, my dear sweet Khushi, it doesn't take a genius to realise that. What are you going to do about it, that is the question."

"First of all," Khushi said briskly, "I'm going to get rid of those huge pictures in her room. The poor kid can't forget the tragedy even if she wants to. When were those things put there, for heaven's sake? They're staring down at her all the time - the poor kid! It's like being haunted by her own parents!"

Arnav looked at her surprised. "But she shouldn't forget her parents! That's not the idea! She must remember them."

"She must and she will remember them, I agree," said Khushi gently. "But let her remember the happy times, not have them staring down at her all the time, like ghosts! I'm making a collage of pictures for her room, with all the family, you, Akash, your father, Shantitai, and her parents and grandmother. What about her maternal grandparents? If they are living, let me add some of their pictures as well. Let her see the living as well as the dead, for heaven's sake!"

Arnav looked thoughtfully at her.

"Are you sure? Poonam or my mother used to put her to bed every night. That was another reason we put the pictures there - she used to cry for her mother every night, and she did seem to settle down when we put the picture there."

Khushi looked at him seriously, thinking for a moment. Then she shook her head slowly. 

"Let me try this," she said. "It will take a few days for this to be made and framed the way I want it. Till then, I'll observe her behaviour inside and outside her room. I'll make the change in a way that seems natural."

Arnav still looked doubtful. Khushi looked at him.

"Well? Can I go ahead or not? I promise you, it won't be a traumatic change. And i will be watching her every inch of the way, Arnavji. If I feel it affects her badly, they will come back. That's the advantage of living here ... I will be able to gauge her behaviour much more easily, and work accordingly."

He nodded slowly.

"I really am not too sure about this, Khushi, but if you are …. Well, like you said, it's your job for the next few months, and you know what you’re doing … and it's what I hired you for, so … I guess, if she doesn't get disturbed by the change, and she doesn't cry, or her nightmares don’t get worse again, or …"

"Stop!" exclaimed Khushi, holding her hands to her ears. She was smiling. When she looked at Arnav, so was he. Reluctantly.

"All right, all right," he said, his smile in his voice. "I won't say any more. Get on with your work."

"I've just about finished," Khushi told him, shuffling the pictures together. "Except that I would like some pictures of her maternal relations also, and friends, if you can get them. I want pictures of pleasant events - birthday parties, family picnics, things like that."

"There are more in her room," said Arnav. "These one I have are only the ones in which I or my parents figure. She has more with Ajay and Poonam. I'll take them out for you tomorrow."

Khushi nodded, she hoped, briskly. She got up, picking up the albums and pictures she had sorted out. Arnav put out a hand to steady an album in her grasp, and his hand brushed hers.

She gave a nervous start, which she tried to hide. His nearness and the lateness of the hour was getting to her, she thought. That, and the fact that they were alone in the room, and she was absurdly, acutely aware of him.

She busied herself in putting the albums back in their place, and took her time putting the photographs into order, very aware of the man watching her from the bed. As she was carefully avoiding looking at him, she didn't notice when his expression changed to a very amused look. He knew exactly what was going through her mind.

Khushi was so busy ignoring Arnav, that she didn't notice when he rose. He came up behind her, and she gave a start when he spoke softly just behind her ear.

"How long are you going to pretend to be so busy, Khushi? Why don't you just come out with it and ask me?"

"I …I … don't know what you're talking about," she managed, her hands shuffling the pictures uselessly.

"Oh, come on," Arnav chided. "I thought you were an intelligent girl. You know what I'm talking about. You're worried about the sleeping arrangements, aren't you?"

Khushi looked at him quickly, and looked away from the devilment in his eyes.

"You …you did say this would be in name only," she muttered. "It's a job I'm doing. So I'm entitled to wonder, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are," he agreed, solemnly. "But remember, you are my wife. The wedding and the vows in front of the fire were real. Our marriage is real and legal. And I will have to legally divorce you when the time comes."

Khushi flinched at the word 'divorce'. Yes, this marriage would end sooner or later, that much was certain.

"I know," she protested. "But you promised …"

Arnav grinned, and she looked at him with a touch of anger.

"Arnavji," she said. "This is not right. You can't take advantage of my position like this."

"Am I doing anything?" he asked aggravatingly, and added mockingly, "… yet?"

She looked angrily at him, and Arnav laughed.

"I like pulling your leg," he said, maddening her still further. "I didn't know you would get angry so quickly. You always seem so calm and collected, in control."

She didn't know what to say, what to think. He was still very close, and she was finding it a little difficult to breathe.

"Please," she said, trying very hard not to let the note of pleading enter her voice. "Please, Arnavji, don't be a tease. You know what I mean. You promised …"

He gave a soft chuckle, and unexpectedly, moved his hands to her shoulders. His fingers moved gently, softly, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, as well.

"You've carried a big burden on these shoulders for some time, haven't you, sweetheart? And I've just added to it, by pushing my own troubles on to you."

He turned her around gently to face him.

"The sofa is a sofa cum bed," he said, softly, still massaging her shoulders. "I do remember my word, Khushi. I will sleep there, and you here. So don't worry, okay? I'm not about to maul you in the middle of the night."

She looked at him steadily, biting her lip, her panic fading and her normal good sense returning. Of course, he wouldn't break his word. In the little time she had known him, she had realized that he just wasn't that kind of person. But … she thought slowly, what if … she looked at the bed again.

“Arnavji, it won’t work,” she said in a small voice, not looking at him. He looked surprised.

“What?”

“You … you said Radhika woke up every night,” she reminded him unwillingly and he frowned.

“Yes,” he said slowly, and she could see he was thinking the same thing that she was. “she does. Do you … will you …?”

“I’ll have to,” she said. “I’ll have to bring her here … and if she sees you sleeping there …”

“The whole house will know,” he agreed, frowning as he thought over what she was saying.

“Unless,” she began, and he looked at her again.

“Unless what?”

“Unless I go to her room when she wakes and sleep there …”

"No!" he said, immediately. "She comes in here. I don't want the whole world to think that I've married you only for her. This marriage has to look like a real marriage. Neither my father nor Akash should guess the truth. You sleep here and Radhika comes here with us. If Akash sees you in her room every night, it won't take him long to put two and two together. I don't want him to guess anywhere remotely near the truth."

She looked at him in surprise. "Why? I was thinking of enlisting his help actually. It would help his guilt feelings, to make him feel he’s doing something. Especially for Radhika, since he feels responsible for her nightmares."

“No,” repeated Arnav firmly. “I said no one gets to know and I meant no one. Not my father, not Akash. Especially not Akash.”

“Why especially Akash?” asked Khushi slowly, puzzled.

Arnav looked away without meeting her eyes. He turned and walked to the window, and stared out. Khushi looked at him, puzzled.

"Arnavji?" then, when he didn't answer, "Arnavji? What is it? What is the matter?"

"Forget it, Khushi," he said, without meeting her eyes. "Let’s leave it for now. Just accept that I don't want anyone to know the reason for our marriage. Especially not my own family, my brother or my father. They're all part of the problem, they are all taking part in the cure, to a large extent or small, they all need healing."

"And you," she added, softly, and he looked at her in surprise. She smiled gently back at him. "You hurt too, don't you? You need healing, as well, from what I can see. You need to let your feelings out and be free to mourn as well, you know, Arnavji."

He looked a little startled, and not quite pleased, as though he didn't like displaying his weakness. Khushi suddenly had a vision of Aman breaking down and crying at the hospital, and his subsequent embarrassment.

"Why you men…," she said, exasperatedly, "believe that showing any emotion is weak and foolish, is something I'll never understand, not if I live to be a thousand years old. Why is it a problem to confess to feeling sad, or grieving, or hurting? If you're hurting, if you're grieving, it's normal, for heaven's sake! You’ve lost your mother and your brother, after all."

Arnav smiled a little at her vehemence.

"I'm not hiding anything," he defended. "I am grieving, it's only natural. But I thought I had got over it, and got on with my life. Your assumption that I haven't, surprised me, that's all."

"I'm right, though, aren't I?" she challenged him. He looked as though he was going to contradict her, then he stopped, his face thoughtful. And when he spoke, the words came slowly, hesitantly.

"I don't know, Khushi. I ... don't ... know. I've always felt I'm coping quite well, and the burden of looking after the others … well, I had to recover fast, or who else would look after them? But in a way ... I suppose you're right. I've really had no time to grieve - I had to get on with the practicalities. Radhika's guardianship, her inheritance and trust fund, re-division of the company, and its responsibilities … oh, all that. Nobody else was in any state to see to all that, so I had to thrust my own feelings away, and look after all that. And when I came out from that mess, enough time had passed to blunt the impact of the tragedy, and it was important to get on with life. And get the living back into getting on with life. I had no time on my own, to mourn my own loss. Ajay and I were very close. We were just a year apart in age - Akash came much later, and he's been the kid in the house all the time. Ajay and I were … I miss him a lot," he ended, bleakly, sitting down on the bed, and Khushi ached for the emptiness she saw in his face.

She came up to him gently, and knelt down on the floor next to him. "Then grieve for him, Arnavji," she said, softly. "Think about him. Remember him, remember all the good times with him, growing up together, everything. Cry for him, if you want to. Remember your mother, and talk about her, if you want. If you want me, I'm here .. if you want to grieve alone, send me away, but remember them. Don't freeze them out of your memories. Memories are beautiful, Arnavji, you must keep them there."

He nodded, his face still bleak and still, then he looked at her, small and vital, and a small smile came to his face.

"This wasn't part of your job, was it, my little psychologist?" he mused. "Aren't there enough people who need your healing, to add me to the list?"

"All for the price of one," she said, purposely flippant, to ease the atmosphere, and had the satisfaction of seeing his smile widen into genuine amusement. He touched her hair gently.

"Oh, and one more thing," he said, still smiling. "Can you stop calling me Arnavji? It makes me feel about a hundred years old. Even my mother called my father by name, and they has as traditional an arranged marriage as you can imagine. And we're supposed to be the modern, much in love couple here."

She smiled uncertainly. "I wasn't sure what you wanted actually ... what was the norm here. And I didn't ... I don't know you well enough ... Arnav seemed a bit ... too familiar ..."

He grinned teasingly. "We're sharing the same room, the same  ..." he gestured towards the bed, "Familiarity is par for the course, sweetheart. So Arnav it is ... okay?"

Her heart gave a small skip at that teasing smile. She nodded, somehow not trusting her voice at that particular moment. She felt oddly breathless. He touched her cheek. 

“Go to bed,” he said gently. “I think you’re right … I’ll have to sleep there too. You trust me, don’t you?”

She nodded, surprising herself, and realized that she did. Why, she didn’t know, but she did. Implicitly.

She went to bed then, and Arnav said he had some work, and settled down in a leather armchair in the sitting area with some files. More to give her time to sleep, she guessed, than from any real desire to work, for she saw him yawning soon, and she pretended to be fast asleep so that he could sleep himself. He came to bed shortly afterwards, and lay down scrupulously on his side, with a couple of pillows down the center of the bed. She lay awake for some time, then out of sheer exhaustion, fell asleep.