Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - 25

Chapter 25

Akash didn't hear Lavanya's reply.

Somehow he came back to life, somehow he stumbled back, his head reeling, unable to believe what he had just overheard. He slipped back into the garden, and paced up and down, his hands thrust through his hair, as in his mind, he heard Arnav and Lavanya's conversation over and over again, the words replaying and burning into his brain.

"Come back with me to America," Lavanya had said.

Lavanya, the girl he had idolized, the sister of the girl he loved, the girl he had wanted so desperately to marry his brother, wanted to take Arnav away to America, leaving them all here. Wanted to leave them all behind here, was even prepared to leave them with Khushi, the girl who had taken her place. She was prepared to let Khushi stay on in the house with them, as long as Arnav was with her. Their father's trauma, their niece's orphaned state, his own grief - nothing mattered to her.

More, she had wanted to take Arnav away last year too. Last year, at the time when they were all stupefied and sunk in grief at the quadruple tragedy that had struck their family. At that time, she had wanted to take Arnav away, when he was needed here the most. And Arnav had asked Lavanya to stay, to be with him, to marry him, and she had turned him down, and left. For the last one year Akash had blamed Arnav for not bringing Lavanya into the house, believing that she alone could help to fill the gap left by the deaths of his mother and sister-in-law. But he had wronged his brother. Arnav had tried, it was Lavanya who had not wanted to come, not wanted the responsibilities that had suddenly overwhelmed Arnav. At the time he needed her, she had left him ... she had left them all.

And Arnav, given the choice between the girl he loved and his family, who needed him as never before, had sent her away, and married a stranger who had helped him shoulder his burdens willingly and gladly. What choice had Arnav had, thought Akash savagely. We were all so sunk in our own personal hell, we just took it for granted he would take care of us. And he did.

Including me, thought Akash, with loathing for the person he saw himself to be. I'm his brother. I should have helped him take care of dad and Radhika, I should have shared his grief and pain, and his responsibilities, too. I did nothing of the sort. I just made things worse for him by staying in my own prison of guilt and sorrow. I made no effort to climb out, to see and share his feelings. And because Lavanya is Shivanya's sister, I hated Khushi for taking her place, and hated Arnav for giving her that place, without seeing how much better than Lavanya she filled it. Even there, it was my selfishness at work. I loved Shivi, so I hated Khushi. I didn’t even give her a chance. How wrong, how dreadfully wrong I was, about Arnav and Khushi both.

He remembered how Arnav had broken the news of his sudden marriage to Akash and their father, and how he had reacted. With astonishment, disbelief and finally, anger and a feeling of betrayal.

"To Lavanya?" he had asked, and Arnav shook his head.

"No ...  to Khushi. We met very recently. She is a lovely girl. When you meet her, you'll understand why I want to  marry her."

He was speaking to their father, but his eyes were on Akash. Akash looked at him with growing disbelief and anger.

"Khushi?! Who's she? You've never mentioned her before. When did you meet her? Who is she? Where did you ... and what about Lavanya, Bhai?"

Arnav spoke evenly, but Akash could see that he was tense. 

"I told you, Akash, we met very recently. Her brother works ... for us. She is beautiful ..."

His father looked at him then.

"It's not like you to fall for a pretty face, Arnav. Is she a nice girl?"

Arnav's face softened, and he knelt next to his father. 

"She's a very nice girl, dad. I'm sure you will like her. And so will Radhika. She ..."  

Akash interrupted harshly.

"So she knows about Radhika?  About us?"

Arnav looked back at him evenly.

"Yas, Akash, she knows."

Akash stared at him disbelievingly.

"I don't believe this, bhai! How can you do this? How can you betray Lavanya like this? She's away in the States ... when she gets back, she'll be so hurt! Shivi will be so upset ... she's been looking forward to both of you getting married ... who is this girl anyway? Is she after your money? She must be ... " 

Arnav interrupted Akash brusquely. 

"Akash, give me credit for being able to recognise fortune hunters. She is not after my money ... she's not that kind of girl. She is a wonderful, beautiful person, and I ... this family ... is lucky she accepted me. I want you to welcome her and make her feel comfortable here."

Akash turned away.

"Count me out," he said rudely. "Mom wanted Lavanya as your bride. You're going against mom's last wish, Bhai. Shivi will be devastated."

Arnav's face changed. He swallowed, and spoke again with an effort.

"Akash ... things change. Please, Chotu ... for my sake ... please try to welcome Khushi. I want you to attend our wedding tomorrow. We're having a very small ceremony at the temple. She has no family ... and I don't want a big affair anyway ... not so soon after ... Dad can't climb the temple stairs ... I want at least you to be there."

He came to Akash and touched his face gently.

"Please, Chotu? For my sake? Shivi will understand ... and so will you when you meet her. Khushi is a wonderful, wonderful girl. I really love her."

His mother had used his childhood nickname, even when the rest of the family stopped. Being the youngest, always trying to catch up with his two older brothers, he had fought them all and got them to stop calling him Chotu. But his mother had laughed and persisted. He was her Chotu, she told him, and always would be. 

Akash looked at Arnav.

"I'll come," he said ungraciously. "For your sake and for your sake only. But you're not doing right, Bhai. I will never forgive you for this."

Akashe saw in his mind's eye, Khushi's and Arnav's wedding and his own sullenness during it. He remembered Khushi's nervousness at seeing the big house, at meeting him, his father, Shantitai, Radhika. How quickly she had won them over with her gentleness, her love, her warmth. How quietly and calmly she had worked on Radhika the past few months, showering the traumatized, terrified child with love and laughter, till now the sounds of the child's laughter had slowly returned to light up the house again, and the people in it. With Khushi's affectionate bullying, her alternate coaxing and scolding, his father had started living again. From being a sullen, grief-stricken old man, confined to a wheelchair, who didn't even want to leave his room, who prayed every day for death, he had started living each day again, laughing, joking, playing with his granddaughter, wheeling himself all over the house, and taking charge again.

Akash blinked, remembering the day he had come back from college to find Radhika, filled with importance and pride, wheel her grandfather out into the garden. And the same pride was in the old man's face, as the little child negotiated the path carefully, with Khushi hovering watchfully in the background, ready to help should the child stumble. 

Khushi, he thought. Always Khushi. Always there in the background. All his memories of home in the last few months had an image of her, always there, somewhere, never pushing herself forward, but always alert and ready, should anyone of them stumble or falter.

Like I faltered, Akash thought. He recalled the visit of his college principal, so suddenly and unexpectedly. Prof. Sharma had called out of the blue, after so many months, so close to the exams, encouraged him to start classes again, not waste his year. Who had gone to him, to beg him for a chance for Akash, to request him to come home so that Akash had no chance to refuse? It had been Khushi, he realised slowly. It had to be her. She had lost her front of disdain just for a second, when his professor spoke out of turn about how he had suddenly come to visit, but she had gestured to Arnav swiftly, and recovered her act very fast. Even going out with his friends, their unexplained reappearance, their urgings, their invitations. Khushi knew he might not listen to what his father and brother said, but he would do the opposite of what she said – so she had argued with Arnav and his father against his going out with his friends, and he had gone – just to spite her. She had played on his resentment, his anger, had invited it even, to push him out of his apathy, his grief, his guilt, and get back to living again. She had used reverse psychology on him and he had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker.

Khushi, he thought heavily. I’ve been such a fool. Such a big, big fool.
 

"Akash?"

It was Khushi. She stood on the path, her face worried, as she watched him pace the garden. She made no effort to approach. And why should she, he thought savagely. He had done nothing but push her away.

He walked slowly up to her, and she stepped back, waiting for him to brush past her as he usually did.

"Are you … all right?" she asked hesitatingly, ready for a rebuff. Her hand came up as though to touch him, then stopped, fell back.

He nodded. "I'm okay," he said shortly. "I'm going in. It's getting cold."

Khushi hesitated.

"Have you seen your brother?" she asked him. "Papaji was asking for him."

Akash looked at Khushi and spoke slowly and deliberately, waiting for her reaction.

"Bhai is with Lavanya in the guest room," he told her coolly. "They're having some private discussion. He'll come soon."

He didn't know what exactly he was looking for. If he was trying to hurt her, he didn't know if he had succeeded.  There was no visible change in her expression. She bit her lip and nodded slightly.

"I'm going to Papaji," she said softly. "If you see him, please tell him Papaji wants him."

He walked in with her, aware of her bewilderment. She stole a quick look at him, wondering at his strange mood. He hadn’t ignored her like he usually did, but his tone was abrupt.

They walked together in silence into the sitting room. The servants, under Shantitai's direction, were clearing away after the prayer meeting. His father was sitting in an armchair, Radhika in his lap. She didn't look tearful, as Akash had first thought she might. She was chattering with her grandfather animatedly, and looked up when Akash came in.

"Chachu! Chachu! Dada's going to show me the stars for mummy, papa and dadi later tonight. Badi mummy says that now we've had this prayer for them, God has made them stars so that we can always see them, and they can see us. Will you come too?"

Akash smiled at her. "Yes, I will. Shantitai, can you make me some coffee, please? I want it the way you make it every night."

Shantitai turned abruptly at his tone, and so did Khushi. Both looked nonplussed. Khushi recovered first.

"Good idea. Go, Shantitai. We all could do with something hot. Papaji, would you like something too? I'll get for you."

"Let Shantitai get it," Akash said harshly, and Khushi stopped as though she had been slapped. Shantitai came to life.

"Yes, of course, baba, I'll get it. Khushi bitiya, can you come down with me. I need to show you some …"

"Let her stay here, Shantitai. I want to see what kind of coffee you make," Akash interrupted, brusquely. Shantitai stared at him nervously.

"Akash, beta, why do you want ... I'll make what I make for you every night," she began, but he interrupted her.

"Since when have you started lying to me, Shantitai?" he asked her coldly. "You've never made it, have you? She …" gesturing at Khushi, "… she's always made it, hasn't she? And all the goodies you sneak to me at night, when I've been studying? She makes and sends them, doesn't she? Not you. God, what a fool I've been!"

He turned and walked out of the room, Shantitai's guilty face and Khushi's stunned silence confirming his brother's words.

He left a stunned silence behind him. Shantitai stood as though turned to stone. Khushi stared unbelievingly after Akash, and sank down slowly into an armchair. She looked at Arnav's father and he shook his head helplessly, not saying a word. Radhika sat still in her grandfather's lap, not understanding why her uncle had suddenly become so angry, and why her badi mummy was upset.

Then Khushi turned, and getting to her feet, she ran out of the room, past Arnav and Lavanya who were just coming in. Arnav turned to look at her, stupefied, but she rushed past him, almost unseeing.

Arnav walked up to his father. "Dad? What happened?"

Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - 24

Chapter 24 

Time moves in mysterious ways. In times of grief and sorrow, it drags, as though empathizing with sorrow, engulfing the all-pervasive grief within its embrace, moving on leaden feet, slow, heavy footed, dense. And as it moves on slowly, grief lightens, and time too quickens his pace. sensing the lightening of mood, lifting the dark clouds of sorrow, allowing the sunshine to peep in. 

The first few months after the terrible accident in the Raizada house had moved unbearably slowly. Days dragged, colored in the dark hues of mourning. But life goes on, and those living have to move with it. And after Khushi's entry into the family, she brought the first wisps of that elusive sunshine with her into the house. Living up to her name, she breathed the first tentative stirrings of life back into those left behind, tentative smiles, soft laughter, a healing, a renewal. And time moved faster still, the weeks and months moving on slowly quickening feet, to the time where the family was ready to mourn the departed souls a year after they had gone. 

They would never forget the ones they had lost. That was unthinkable. Mother, brother, sister-in-law ... the three who had gone so suddenly and cruelly, had left their memories, their imprints, stamped into the hearts and very souls of the ones left behind. But over the months following Khushi's entry into the family, the grief lessened, the clouds starting to lift slowly, the sorrow of the loss healing gradually with the small joys that life brought back. Memories came seeping into the fabric of everyday life, but now without the crushing grief accompanying them. Radhika's new school, her teacher stories, her every small accomplishment, those became occasions for celebration, mixed with wistful comments of 'your parents would have been so proud.'  Arvind Raizada became once again the man his sons loved and respected, a fighter, a man who would not let anything get him down. He struggled with his useless legs, fought them, battled his own body and his weakness ... and slowly started to overcome it. He maneuvered himself into his wheelchair without any help two days before his target date ... the day of the first 'barsi'. And the sorrowful occasion was admixed with a small curl of happiness.

Akash

He watched her as she moved around swiftly and surely, coordinating, pushing, pulling, till everything was the way his father wanted. Her slim frame clad in a simple white saree, her hair knotted into a neat plait, she was at once the centre of activity, and a quiet bystander. The pooja ceremonies moved at her word, but she stayed in the background.

He still hated her, he thought, and tried again to whip up the same emotion, the same distaste he felt for Khushi.

She hadn’t thought he would have the strength, the resilience to go back to college, she hadn’t thought he would be able to manage his studies, she had thought he was selfish, lost in his grief … well, he had shown her. Not only was he taking his exams in time, he had even started going out with his friends again. Not too often – he still felt it was a betrayal of the memory of his mother and brother, to start enjoying himself too soon after their deaths. It had barely been a year … in fact … just a year, and Khushi was playing the lady of the house, organizing the prayers, the bhajans, the memorial for three people she had no feelings for, had not even known. Who was she to do all this, he thought savagely? It should have been Lavanya, the girl Arnav had loved, the sister of the girl he loved … Lavanya should have been doing all this. Khushi had no right … no right to be in charge ... no right to even be there. Why had Arnav bhaiya sent Lavanya away, he wondered for the umpteenth time. 

Though he had to admit unwillingly, Khushi had done wonders for Radhika, that couldn’t be denied. Radhika laughed, ran, jumped in the house as before, her shrieks and shouts filled the place and even her nightmares had almost stopped. And his father … well, Akash thought, he was better, but that was not due to Khushi … the new physiotherapist was very good, very patient … he knew Khushi very well, of course, but that had nothing to do with anything …

It was time for the barsi. Slowly Akash walked back into the house, head bowed.

*****

The 'barsi'- the prayer meeting for the departed souls, went off peacefully. Khushi worked hard with Shantitai to organise things the way the family wanted. The prayers were simple, the bhajans soft and emotional, and more than one person was seen wiping their tears during the singing - due partly to the simple, yet heartfelt words, and partly to the sight of the three big garlanded pictures of Arnav's mother, brother and sister-in-law, who had passed away so suddenly and tragically.

Khushi kept Radhika close to her, and the little girl clung to her, confused, yet trusting. Arnav saw the bond, so did Akash but Akash didn't want to accept it. He still couldn't accept Khushi in place of Lavanya, and his face showed his feelings. He stayed away from both Khushi and Radhika, in the background, and as soon as he possibly could, he got up and quietly left the hall.

He wandered restlessly in the grounds outside, his mind unable to find peace. Why, he muttered to himself, why did all this have to happen? Even almost a year after the tragedy, he still had not got used to the absence of his mother, his brother, his sister-in-law. The prayer meeting had done nothing to reconcile him to the loss. Lavanya should have been in her place, organizing the rites, he thought again, remembering his earlier musings. If Lavanya had been here, maybe he would have found it easier to accept, would have been able to see in her face, those of his mother and Poonam. Lavanya had known them, had been fond of them, and they of her. Why had Arnav sent her away?!

Still brooding, Akash made his way inside and shouldered his way through the half open terrace doors into the small guest room on the side of the main house.

And stopped, just before he entered and made his presence felt to the two people inside who were having an obviously private conversation. He stood, trapped behind the curtain, and listened with disbelief and growing horror, to the conversation he was unwillingly eavesdropping on.

Lavanya was speaking.

"So you won't come back with me to America?" she was saying. "Is that your final answer, Arnav?"

Akash heard Arnav sigh.

"What are you asking me to do, Lavanya?" he asked. "You're not thinking straight. Even less so than a year ago. Last year, you asked me the same question, and I gave you the same answer. It's still the same. I can’t leave this house and go anywhere."

"What's holding you back now?" she said. "Yes, I agree, last year, I was premature in asking you to come away. But now, things are different. You've taken care of your responsibilities now. Khushi is here to take care of Radhika. Your father is improving. Though I don't think she has anything to do with that. I told you once he started his physiotherapy and his medicines, he would improve. Akash is recovering, and Khushi definitely has nothing to do with that. He still hates her, he still thinks I should be in her place, that we should be together. Leave her here for Radhika, and start living your own life. Our life - what we had planned."

Arnav looked at her, and smiled slightly.

"You seem to forget, I am married to her. She is my wife. So what will that make you?"

Lavanya laughed scornfully.

"Arnav, don't try to fool me. You can fool everyone else, but not me. You brought her here to look after your niece, that's all. She is not really your type, is she? And even if she is your wife, so what? Marriage isn’t a permanent bond any more, and your marriage can easily be sorted out, once you are in America, and away from her. I don't mind waiting. Wait two years, and get a divorce. I've already waited for you for so long - a year or two more doesn't matter, as long as we are together."

Arnav straightened. His voice changed, and Akash heard the hardness in it.

"But I didn't want you to wait, Lavanya. I wanted you with me. This time last year, I asked you to marry me – do you remember? Because I needed you – we all needed you. And when I needed you, you weren’t there. You got scared of the responsibilities that came with me, and you ran. You wanted only me, but I don't come alone. Last year, before the accident, it was different. Ajay was here to manage this place, I could have gone with you to America, set up the business there, and he would have handled this end. He and Poonam were there to look after dad and mom, and Akash. But it all changed, and now nothing is the same any more. They all need me here now, and I cannot go away. They need Khushi now, and I cannot leave her here alone."

He turned to Lavanya.

"You think Khushi has nothing to do with what’s happening in this house? Are you really so blind, Lavanya? Can’t you even see what she's done here? Dad's started looking forward to life, to being alive again. Radhika's nightmares have almost stopped, I hear her laughter in this house now, I see her running around, being naughty, playing tricks, behaving like a normal five year old. We hadn't seen that for the last year! And Akash? You say he hates her, resents her. Yes, he does, he doesn't even know what she does for him, because she does it through Shantitai, through me, through Radhika. But we – dad, me, even Shantitai and the servants - we know who’s responsible for the change in him.  Why do you think he has started going to college again, studying again, meeting friends again? Who do you think organized his missed classes, called his friends to help him with notes he had missed while he was in his depression, even sat and wrote notes for him when his friends didn’t have time? Got his friends to pull him out of the house, start doing the things he used to? Shivanya, your sister - she dislikes Khushi, because she thinks Khushi is taking your place. Khushi plays on that, to get Akash out of the house with her. She sits and makes snacks, coffee, for Akash every night with Shantitai, to keep him awake, help him study, but it’s Shantitai who takes them to him, never Khushi. "

Arnav turned away from Lavanya. "Radhika is young, she is healing. Dad is healing, too, just by seeing her, and by Khushi's bullying, teasing and constant care. Akash is still hurting, because he still blames himself. He is taking the longest to recover from the trauma of the accident. And the only one who has made a difference is Khushi. The only one who has got him into some semblance of a normal life."

Lavanya spoke again, and Akash heard the confidence ebbing from her voice.

"Arnav, I didn't have the time to do all that. Khushi has nothing else to do - this is all her work.  She can continue doing that, without being your wife. You need somebody your equal, intellectually, to be your partner, your spouse, somebody who can attend your social events with you, talk to your clients, somebody intelligent."

Arnav interrupted her harshly, and Akash could hear the fury in his voice.

"Lavanya, don't make a fool of yourself without knowing the facts. Intellectual? Intelligent? Is that all that matters? How about loving? compassionate? generous? That’s much more important to me than intellectual right now! And if we’re talking about intelligent, Khushi is a postgraduate, she’s working on a Doctorate, she’s probably more qualified than you or me, my dear. She has been working at the hospital for the last year or more, and she still visits there almost everyday. The only difference is that she goes there when she is not needed at home, and she is always home when she is needed. So the question of her not being an intellectual doesn't arise. She's as well educated as you or me, she can talk to anyone from a shopgirl to a CEO, and you’ve seen that yourself. If you still want to blind yourself …"

"Arnav, I can’t do that," whispered Lavanya, in an obviously shaken voice. "I have my work, my career. I’ve worked a lot for it, I can’t give it up. I thought you understood that. If Khushi is working, why do you object to my …"

“I don’t object, Lavanya,” Arnav spoke more gently. “I never did. But sometimes life changes all our plans. And we have to change with them. If you can’t change your plans for me, I don’t grudge you that. I have no complaints against you. It’s your life. But Khushi is my life now … you have to understand that. I don’t want you to wait for me. I can never come back to you. And …” he took a deep breath and Akash heard the finality in his tone, “I don’t want to. I’m sorry, Lavanya.”

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.

Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - 23

Chapter 23 

"Wait!" exclaimed Arnav."Of course - why didn't I think of this before?!"

He opened his drawer, and pulled out a slim file. It held three pieces of paper. Arnav ignored two, and pulled out one single sheet. He looked at it for a long moment, then wordlessly handed it to the other man.

It was his marriage certificate. On it were his and Khushi's details. And there it was - in black and white.

Wife's name - Khushi (Gupta) Raizada.

Daughter of - Shashi Gupta and Garima Devi Gupta.

Arnav sat down.

So did Mahendra Shah. He wiped his brow, and surreptitiously, his eyes. It was an obvious effort for him to regain his control, Arnav could see. After a while, he looked up.

"I'm sorry," he said, heavily. "This was quite a shock. I had hoped … but not dared to hope too much …"

He looked at Arnav. "You are wondering, aren't you?" he asked with a slight smile, "why is it that I am so upset? Why this means so much to me? Garima is … was like my own daughter. I was the first to hold her in my arms after her parents, when she was born. She was a year younger than my son, and both the children were fast friends from childhood. We ... my wife and I ... saw her through each and every phase of her life. The news of her death was a shock, which took me a while to recover from. We both … my wife and I, loved her very much. And we had hoped one day that we would be able to persuade Mayur to let her marry our son. He liked her a lot, as well. So much so," he stopped, and swallowed, "… that the news of Garima's death almost drove him crazy. He took years to recover, and even now, he misses her, remembers her. We … my wife and I … tried a lot to dissuade him. We knew Mayur wanted only a Rajput boy for Garima. Even my son, the son of one of his oldest friends, was not good enough. But he always hoped that Mayur would relent in time. But it appears now that Garima had different ideas all along. She was obviously in love with this other man, your wife's father."

Arnav shook his head, still unable to take it all in.

"So you are telling me that Khushi has a family, still living?" he asked. "Apart from her father, that is? She has grandparents?"

Mahendra Shah shook his head. "I have absolutely no idea," he said, heavily. "As I told you, they left about 25 years ago. They did not communicate with anyone. We tried - my wife and I, and Brijesh, our son - we tried to locate them many times. They have an ancestral home in Jodhpur, but nobody lives there any more. It is ramshackle, run-down. No, I was trying to find out who your wife was, because I loved Garima very, very much, and I was hoping against hope that if she was related to Garima, Garima was still alive and the news of her death was false. For a few days, since the night I met your wife, I had allowed myself to hope … I am very sorry, very sorry indeed to hear that she is really no more."

He swallowed, and Arnav could see the depth of his grief. He got up and turned to Arnav.

"Thank you for bearing with an old man," he said with dignity.  "If you don't mind, could I visit your wife once in a while, with my wife and son? They would be very happy to meet Garima's daughter."

Arnav nodded. "I have absolutely no objection," he said, sympathetically. "Khushi, my wife, has not had the best of family life. Her father and brother - well, suffice it to say that there is not much love lost between them. She would be happy, I think to find someone who actually cared for her."

Mahendra Shah looked surprised, and Arnav told him sketchily, Khushi's story. All except the circumstances of their marriage. Mahendra Shah was surprised.

"Tell me," he asked. "Is Khushi's brother older or younger than her?"

Arnav looked puzzled. "He's older," he said. "Why?"

Mahendra Shah looked bewildered. "There is something strange here," he said. "Can I see that marriage certificate again, please?"

Both men looked at the certificate.

"I don't understand this," said the older man, finally. "According to this, Khushi is 24 years old. Garima died, or disappeared, 25 years ago. And till that time, there was absolutely no question of any child. How could she have a boy three years older than Khushi? This is not Khushi's real brother."

Arnav shrugged. "Maybe Garima fell in love with a married man with a son, or a widower, or some such thing," he said. "Maybe that was why her father was so furious. It doesn't really make a difference, does it? And it could explain why her brother had no love for her. If her mother was responsible for her father's leaving his mother, or some such thing."

Mahendra Shah looked unconvinced. "Would she not have known that?" he asked.

Arnav didn't understand why it was important. Mahendra Shah looked up again. "She said she is a psychologist. How is it that she is so well educated, and her brother works in a factory?" he asked suddenly. "Is he a manager or a foreman, or some such?"

"No!" said Arnav. "He's lucky he has a job at all! He's just a worker. He was never interested in his studies, Khushi says, while she was."

Mahendra Shah nodded. "Like her mother," he remarked. "Garima was a brilliant student throughout. Which makes me even more sure that he is not her real brother, if there were any doubts about that. But it is still puzzling how with that kind of family background, her father educated her so much. Especially when the brother isn’t educated. Normally these people educate their sons, rather than their daughters."

Arnav waited patiently. He had many things to do, but obviously this old man was clinging to straws, to try to find the family he had been so close to. Mahendra Shah looked at him again.

"Is it possible," he asked, tentatively, "…that Mayur was paying for his granddaughter's tuition? In which case, maybe there is a way to trace him."

Arnav looked at Mahendra Shah sharply. 

Arnav's manager, Vijay Dhawan, cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, sir, but even if he was, he obviously doesn't want to meet anyone else. So why …?"

"No, Vijay," Arnav interrupted, his eyes narrowing. "If Khushi has some surviving relatives, she might want to trace them. I agree with Mr. Shah about that. And I have met her father and brother. I can say with confidence that Khushi must be more like her mother, in which case, her grandparents might want to acknowledge her. Sometimes time heals old wounds. It's worth a try."

For Khushi's sake, he thought, with a pang in his heart. She was so alone in the world, and she bore her loneliness with such courage. He couldn't imagine her family meeting her, and not loving her.

As you do, a little voice whispered, and he smiled a little to himself. He turned to the older man.

"I'm willing to give it a try," he said. "To trace her grandfather, that is. That's what you want, isn't it?"

The other man nodded. Arnav nodded briskly.

"Can you get me some photographs of her grandparents, her mother?" he asked. "I'll go to her house - her father's house," he amended, "and snoop around a bit. She obviously doesn't know anything, so I'll have to pry a bit."

Mahendra Shah's face brightened visibly. 

"Thank you," he said in a heartfelt tone, and pressed Arnav's hands between his. "Thank you for giving an old man so much time and consideration. This means more to me than you can ever imagine. I'll send some pictures across as soon as I can find them."

Arnav nodded in understanding, and the other man left. Leaving Arnav deep in thought. 

Kaisey Yeh Rishtey - 22

Chapter 22

He didn't mention Lavanya again, and Khushi completely forgot about the incident with the old man. So did Arnav.

Until it was brought to his attention in a strange way.

A few days later, Arnav was sitting in his office, talking to his manager and friend, Vijay Dhawan, when a business card was brought in by his secretary. Arnav looked at the name, puzzled, and cocked an inquiring glance at his secretary, who shrugged her shoulders. He nodded, not pausing in his conversation with Vijay, and she showed in an elderly gentleman.

At the sight of him, Arnav stopped in mid-sentence, and stared. It was the same man, he realised, who had been quizzing Khushi a few nights ago at the club.

The other man smiled at Arnav's expression.

"I see that you have recognized me," he said. His voice was low, cultured, and held a tinge of amusement. Arnav smiled in return and rose to shake the hand the other man offered.

"I haven't really," replied Arnav. "My apologies. But I do remember you. And I also remember my wife telling me about your conversation with her the other night. Please ... have a seat. How can I help you?"

"That's what I've come about," replied the other. "Your wife. I'm Mahendra Shah, by the way. I'm a member of the club we were in two nights ago. And no, you don't know me apart from that. But my name is not important. What is important is your wife."

Arnav looked as he felt - baffled. The other man ignored his offer of a seat, and remained standing, his eyes fixed on Arnav.

"Where is she from?" asked Mahendra Shah. "Your wife? Who are her parents, her family? I want to find out about her."

Arnav exchanged glances with Vijay Dhawan.

"Excuse me, sir, but I need to know why you are so interested in her," said Arnav, firmly. "If you can explain your interest in her, I will decide whether I can answer you."

Mahendra Shah nodded, obviously not surprised by the answer. From his pocket, he produced a photograph, and handed it to Arnav.

Arnav looked at it and his eyebrows went up.

It was a photograph of a bride and groom. The photograph was old, in black and white, but there was no mistaking the features of the bride. The bride was Khushi.

Arnav looked at Mahendra Shah sharply.

"Who are you?" he asked fiercely. "Where did you get this photograph? This isn't … this can't be my wife. If you're trying to tell me that, I won't believe you. There's some mistake. I know my Khushi. She would never deceive me."

Mahendra Shah smiled. "So you've seen the resemblance too, have you? Good. At least I know I'm not imagining things. And, no, in answer to your question, your wife is not deceiving you."

Arnav stared. "Resemblance?" He looked at the photograph again, and back at Mr. Shah. "You mean, this isn't Khushi?"

Mahendra Shah shook his head, a half-smile on his face. "Not unless she's about 60 years old now! This photograph is of my very dear friend, Mayur, and his wife, Prayukta, taken on their wedding day about 45, maybe 50  years ago. But now do you see why I was shocked to see your wife?"

Arnav shook his head. His face showed his complete confusion. "I … I don't understand."

"Neither do I," said the older man. "Especially as I was told ... about twenty five years ago ... that their only daughter, who resembled her mother very closely, by the way, had died. After which, my friend and his wife cut off all ties with, as far as we know, almost all their old friends. You can imagine why I was shocked to see your wife."

Arnav was speechless.

"I have another photograph," said the other man, producing it. "This is not so clear, but I think the resemblance is still very strong."

Arnav looked at the second photograph. This showed a young laughing girl with a group of other girls. They were all teenagers, and all obviously having fun together. Her head was thrown back, and she was laughing.

The resemblance to Khushi was, if anything, even stronger.

Arnav sat down. His head was spinning.

"This is Prayukta's daughter. The resemblance between mother and daughter is strong, isn't it? Do you see why I'm so keen to find out who your wife is?" asked Mahendra Shah. "She told me her father's name the other night at the club. It meant nothing to me. I'm not surprised about that ... I didn't expect that it would.  Mayur Singh's daughter was unmarried when she died. If she did die, that is."

"What are you getting at?" asked Arnav. The other man looked at him impatiently.

"Don't you see? No, you obviously don't. I have to tell you something about my friend for you to understand what I'm saying."

He turned away to the window and gazed out unseeingly. 

"Mayur Digvijay Singh," he said heavily. "One of my oldest friends. From a royal Rajput family. Very, very conscious of his status, of his family. Not too much money, but enough. More than enough for some people. And enough and more of pride. Stiff-necked, I used to call him. Not just pride, arrogance."

He turned back to Arnav. "They had one daughter. The apple of their eye. Garima, they called her. Pride. And she was their pride and joy, the light in their life. Very bright, very beautiful, very intelligent. An Honours student at school and college. She won scholarships, trophies, prizes. They were so proud of her. Mayur dreamed big for her, much bigger than his clan was wont to do. They were Rajputs, and girls in their family were only meant to be wives and mothers. But Mayur wanted Garima to be so much more. A leader, a politician, keeper of their jaagir ... in their little corner of Rajasthan, the royal families are still revered as leaders, and Mayur wanted her to take over his mantle."

The old man looked away and Arnav could see him swallow, struggle to retain control. He looked back at Arnav and continued.

"Then one day, we heard that she had died. In an accident. We got a terse message from Mayur's secretary. There was no cremation date, no prayer meeting, nothing. And the next we heard, Mayur and his wife left Bombay. They just packed and left, just like that. And they have kept no contact with any of their old friends. None at all. We tried to trace them, to contact them, but with no success. That was the last I had heard from him for the last twenty five years. Till I saw your wife two nights ago. And I began to wonder if the rumours were true after all."

"What rumours?" asked Arnav, sharply.

The old man looked at him straight.

"That Garima hadn't died. That she had run away with a man. That Mayur had been so furious that he had cut her off, just like that."

Arnav sat down, in a state of shock. His brain was reeling. He shook his head.

"Wouldn't your friend have made his peace with his daughter by now?" he asked slowly, wonderingly. "Twenty-five years … how can somebody cut off their own child …?" he shook his head, unable to take it in, the enormity of what the other man was telling him.

He looked at Mahendra Shah. "It can't be," he said, more firmly, trying to think rationally, though his brain was still whirling. "It must be a coincidence. This resemblance … it’s just a coincidence. She can’t be … this  … this Garima’s daughter. It’s not possible. Her family … they’re just too different. I've met Khushi's father. How could a girl like Garima have fallen in love with a man like … that Kumar …” he stopped, remembering the dissolute features of Khushi’s father, and shook his head. He looked at Mahendra Shah.

"No," he said more surely. "No. It can't be. This is too much of a coincidence. This just can't be."

Mahendra Shah looked at him seriously. "I know it’s difficult to believe,” he said heavily. “Even I can’t quite believe it. But I had to try. I need to know for sure. Her face has been in my mind ever since I saw her two nights ago. Just tell me her mother’s family – their name, anything.  Can you tell me? What is her family? What is her mother's name? Please, if you can, let me get rid of this suspense."

Arnav shook his head slowly. "I don't know. No, honestly…", as the other man shook his head disbelievingly. "I really don't know. I have met her father and brother. I can tell you their names, but I have never asked her mother's name. Strange, but it never seemed important."

Mahendra Shah looked disappointed. "You have no clue at all?" he asked hopefully.

Arnav shook his head, slowly. "I don't think she ever mentioned it, and we really never talked about her mother very much," he said. "She died when Khushi was just about two years old. Khushi doesn't remember her at all, and has no photographs, nothing that I know of. Nothing that she has shown me. She didn't …" he admitted slowly, "have a very happy family life, and she's never shown any desire to go back, or to talk about her parents. Except," he added,  "what she told me about her parents, just those few details I told you ... when we were discussing our marriage.”

Mahendra Shah looked extremely disappointed.

"You have no clue?" he asked, heavily.  "Anything you can remember? Any name she might have dropped?"

Arnav shook his head. "She really doesn't know anything about her mother, or her mother's family," he said. "Except what her father has told her, which apparently, is very little. I don't think she even knows her grandparents' name."

Mahendra Shah looked down, and sighed heavily. "I'm sorry," he said, sadly. "I had hoped …so much … anyway, thank you for your …"

“She did say,” interrupted Arnav slowly, as he suddenly remembered his first conversation with Khushi in his office, “that her mother was from a rich family, and had run away with her father,”

Mahendra Shah stopped and both men looked at each other, arrested. Arnav continued slowly, trying to remember that long ago conversation.

“But … her mother tried to go back to her parents when Khushi was a baby, … and … her grandfather kicked her out.”

He looked at the older man disbelievingly.

“Would he … your friend … have done that? Thrown out his own granddaughter? A small baby? His daughter - if she realised she'd made a mistake - if she wanted to go back? Would he still have ...”

Mahendra Shah sighed heavily.

“It sounds like him,” he admitted very unwillingly. "He threw her out once, he  might have done it again."
He looked at Arnav urgently. “Please … what is her mother’s name? Just tell me that. This suspense is killing me.”

“I … don’t know,” said Arnav slowly, trying his best to remember. Had Khushi ever mentioned her mother’s name? After that one conversation, she had never even mentioned her mother again. It had all been about her brother and father, and getting away from them. Had she ever taken her mother’s name?

"Wait!" exclaimed Arnav. "Of course, why didn't I think of this before?"