Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - Interlude

Interlude - Iss Pyaar Ko Kya Naam Doon?

Jo pehle huaa naa
Ab hone laga hai
Dil humko jaga kar
Kyun sone laga hai?
Ye ishq hai yaa kuch aur hai
Ya bas khaali-khaali shor hHai
Ye ishq hai yaa kuch aur hai
Ya bas khaali-khaali shor hHai
Ho isko main kya kahun?
Kya kahun? tu hi bata…

Iss pyaar ko kya naam doon?

Tujhko dekh kar
Tujhko dekh kar
Aankhein muskuraane lagti hain
Tujhko mill kar
Dhadkne gungunane lagti hain
Aisa hota hai kyun
Mujhko khabar nahin
Pehle kabhi huaa
Aisa asar nahin

Jo mere dil ke paas hai
Naye jaadu naye ehsaas hain
Hoye aise mein kya karun
Kya karun tu hi bata

Iss pyaar ko kya naam doon?

Khushi never knew when it happened. When she fell out of love with Aman, and headlong into love with Arnav. The realization came slowly, over weeks and months of living with him. Watching him with his paralyzed father, his orphaned niece, his sulky rebellious brother ... watching him deal with them patiently, calmly, without complaint shouldering the responsibilities thrust on him, and taking them in his stride. Ever calm, ever cheerful, he was the unspoken head of the household, and the family and home ran to his command, his firm, sure touch, cloaked in velvet softness. How does he manage to do it? Khushi wondered. How can he be so gentle, so caring always ... the tempered steel of his character showing in the way he never raised his voice, yet his slightest word was enough for all of them. Every evening when he came home, he would greet all the members of the family with obvious affection, answer his niece's excited demands patiently, soothe his father's querulous inquiries, and in general handle them all so well that it seemed the fabric of the house would fall apart without him. Khushi stood apart from them all, watching him with them all, loving them ... loving him. The difference between Arnav and his family, and her own, was brought home to her more and more forcibly every day. This was what a home was, what a family was, what a loving husband, a loving son and brother could be. Something so foreign to her own life that she stood aside, just for the sheer rare pleasure of soaking it all in.

Arnav never touched her when they were alone in their room. it was as though he had made an invisible boundary for himself, and he never crossed it. But when he came in from work and greeted her, with a smile and a gentle, impersonal touch on her shoulder, she realised how much her feelings for him had changed. When they were first married, she had shrunk from even so impersonal a touch. Somehow she hadn't believed his word, that he would not touch her, that they would be husband and wife in name only, But as she lived with him, that was another thing she came to realize. he would not break his word. Never. That was a part of his nature, the very fabric of him, his personality, his very self.

And as her feelings for him changed, she knew that his feelings had not. He wanted her to fulfill her part of the bargain, to run his house and family. To look after the old man and the young child, whom fate had left alone so suddenly and cruelly, He did not want more, and definitely not for himself. Or if he did, he did not make it apparent, either by words or by deeds. He smiled at her lovingly when he came in, gave her a fleeting touch and that was all. When they were alone in their room, he did not tough her, even by accident.

Oh, he talked to her. They talked softly as he changed to go down for dinner, while she put his clothes away and took out fresh ones, while she herself got ready for dinner, They were friendly, companionable, even mildly affectionate ... no more.

When he had married her, she had not wanted more, She had told him that in so many words. 'My heart belongs to another man,' she had told him firmly, and he had accepted that, and her, with equanimity. She was doing a job for him, that was all.

But when, she thought in wonderment, had he slipped quietly inside her heart and displaced Aman? Displaced him so completely that now Aman seemed like a distant dream, pleasant to remember, but hazy and indistinct. Aman's face, which she had thought entrenched in her mind forever, now took an effort to remember. Aman's voice, that low soft voice she had loved, was replaced by a deeper, soothing baritone in her ears. Slowly, so gradually, without knowing it, she found herself waiting for the sound of Arnav's car in the evenings. She grew to recognise the tone of the doorbell when he rang it, and to love the sound of his voice as he greeted them all one by one. He greeted them all, and she waited patiently for her turn, for the slight smile he threw her, the low, intimate voice he used for her when his father or Akash were around, and the careless arm he threw around her shoulder if anyone was watching them. She waited for those crumbs, and felt acutely disappointed when his father was not around, because it meant he wouldn't bother with even those small gestures.

It's your own fault, she whispered to herself. You made it very clear when he married you, what your terms were, and he agreed. He's only keeping his side of the bargain, like the gentleman he is.

But falling in love with Arnav wasn't part of the bargain, a little voice whispered back, and she stepped back in shock.

Is this what love is? She wondered? Is this what I'm feeling? This was not the gentle feeling she had felt for Aman, the almost maternal emotion to take care of him, smooth his worries and troubles away, kiss him better. This was a fierce intense longing, a slow, deep fire within her. This was a stomach churning sensation when he turned and smiled at her, an electric charge when he touched her, a hunger to see him, hear his voice, savour every word he addressed to her. It was a tingling awareness when he entered the room, and an aching emptiness when he left, a feeling of incompleteness when he didn't see her or speak to her, and an exhilarating sense of fulfillment when he did. It was an unbearable yearning when he came close to her, an almost physical hunger to be in his arms, to touch him, to be held close to him, to be loved by him ... She pressed her hands to her face, as if to press back the warmth which rose in her cheeks at the thought.

She remembered once when she had been with Aman, and had tried to push him away, prevent him from coming too close. At that time, she had wondered if she was capable of feeling emotion so deep, that her heart would rule her head. With Aman, it never had. She had never felt tempted to transgress the boundary she had set for herself. She had thought at the time, that it was because of her own morals, which shrank from getting too close to a married man, from her fondness for Anjali, and her inability, her unwillingness to cause pain to the other girl.

But with Arnav ... she chafed every day at the boundaries she had set for herself, felt tempted every day to push the line a little, a little more. And she knew deep within that if Arnav ever pushed those boundaries, she would let him ... without a murmur. And the colour rose again in her cheeks at the thought.

Arnav rose from his conversation with Radhika, and looked straight at her. His brows lifted questioningly at her flushed face, and she shook her head at him, and forced herself to smile. He said nothing, but came to her and felt her forehead with a cool hand.

"Are you all right?" he asked with concern, and she nodded.

"I'm fine, Arnav, don't worry. How was your day?"

"Busy," he answered with a tired yawn. "Can we have dinner early? I'm bushed."

"Yes, of course. Dinner's ready ... you go freshen up and change, I'll get it heated and ready on the table."

She took his bag and coat, and he smiled at her and went off to their room. All very normal, very loving conversation between husband and wife at the end of the day, she thought sadly. Who would believe the reality that she was a contract wife?

She busied herself giving orders to the servants about dinner, and then got embroiled in a conversation with her father-in-law, who was never at his best in the evenings. He now wanted to know where Akash was, and she tried her best to answer him, without giving too many details about plans she knew he might not approve of. Arnav called out to her, and she escaped with relief, and went into their bedroom.

"What's the matter with dad?" he asked, holding out his shirtsleeve to her to undo the cuff link. She undid it, and held out her hand for the second.

"Asking about Akash ... as usual," she answered with a grimace. "I guess he's yet to come to terms with the fact that Akash has started going out with friends again. He doesn't like it too much. But Akash is young, he's not likely to be home every evening for dinner. Not on a weekend," she added, to justify her scamp of a brother-in-law.

Arnav shrugged off his shirt and pulled on a kurta. Khushi put his pajamas on the bed for him, and got busy hanging his coat in the cupboard, while he pulled them on.

"Did he tell you that he wasn't going to be home?" he asked sharply, and Khushi looked at him, surprised and a little nervous at his tone.

"Yes, he did, actually. Why? Are you upset? Should I tell him to check with you in future? I thought I should, but he said he had a birthday party of a close friend, and he was in a hurry to go so I ... I did tell him to make sure his phone was charged ... " she looked at him worriedly, afraid that she had overstepped her authority.

Arnav's brow cleared slightly.

"If he told you, it's all right. Actually, in a way, I'm happy that he's started going out again. He'd stopped completely after the accident. But I have told him that he is not to be missing without my knowing where he is at night. He needs to learn that basic responsibility very clearly. You'd better make that clear to him."

"Akash is in final year of college now," Khushi reminded Arnav, a little nervously. "Boys this age need some freedom. Or they start rebelling, which is worse." She closed the door of the cupboard, and crossed the room to draw the curtains.

"In other words, give him a long rope? This way he has less to rebel against," Arnav agreed with a chuckle. "Knowing Akash, at least the old Akash ... he will find something else to complain about. I don't mind ... it's worth it to know he is recovering too." His voice tailed off, his face sombre suddenly.

Khushi nodded absently, biting her lip. Arnav looked at her as she drew the curtains, noticing absently the unconscious grace of her movements, the small furrow between her brows, the worried look on her face. Why was it, he thought curiously as he watched her, that he could read her thoughts so clearly and easily? That in a span of a few short months, her face had become as familiar and as open to him as that of the girl she had replaced in his thoughts and in his heart? No, even more so, he thought .. he had never read Lavanya as well as he could read Khushi. He had never really known Lavanya, while Khushi ... He could see the worry, the tension ... her eyes were a reflection of her heart, and she was still so unsure, so under-confident, he thought with a pang. She handled the entire house with ease and outward confidence, but inside her - it took just a sharp question from him, or a shortness in his tone, to bring the uncertainty, the fear and nervousness back. And he hated that. He didn't want her to be scared of him ... not ever.

"Khushi?"

"Mmmm?" She looked at him, pausing in her actions, the worry still on her face.

Arnav spoke carefully, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Your authority is as good as mine, as far as matters at home go, you know. This is a normal marriage as far as the family is concerned. You are the lady of the house, and you're in charge here. Akash needs to report to you or to me. Not to me alone."

He came over to her and held her by the arms. He looked at her steadily, reassuringly, his thumbs moving gently, oh so gently, on her upper arms. It was the first time he had touched her like this in the privacy of their room, and Khushi felt her lips go dry. She licked her lips, her nervousness about Akash completely forgotten in the tumult of feelings his nearness always aroused.  Somehow she managed to nod shakily.

"Thank you. I was afraid I had overstepped ..."

"I figured," he said dryly, and moved back. So he had been right. "Khushi, don't be scared of me. Please."

"I'm not! she burst out hotly, without thinking, aghast that he could  put such a construction on her nervousness at his touch. So aghast that she didn't stop to think what she was giving away. If it was not fear at his touch, then it could only be an emotion quite the opposite that made her tremble.

But Arnav didn't seem to realise that. He seemed satisfied with her spontaneous exclamation, and left it at that. They left to go downstairs for dinner, and the subject was closed.