Chapter 2
3:15 AM
She stood there, near the Arrivals Exit- leaning against her car, waiting anxiously for him to walk out in that relaxed way of his. Her eyes darted every few seconds to the display board- where the arrival of his flight had been displayed over ten minutes ago. Where was he? Her mind went back to the time he’d gone for his first overseas meeting as her eyes roved over each and every face that came out of the glass doors- searching for him.
“Are you sure you will be alright?”
“Arnav, yes!” she said, as she watched him pack his bag. He sighed and sat down beside her, taking her small hand in his, much like he’d done some years back on that fateful day, before he had pulled her away from that Lucknow Station into this beautiful, fascinating city- into their new lives.
“Aman is here, Khushi. You don’t need to do anything, okay? Just concentrate on your exams. I’ll be back before you know it.” The anxiety in his eyes had been so endearing- she had felt tears well up in her eyes- and had hugged him then. If he saw her crying he would put off the trip- and they needed this deal right now.
“I’ll miss you.” She had whispered against his shoulder and he had hugged her tighter- not saying anything. But she had understood him- she understood his silences for what they were- always. She knew he would miss her just as much.
He smiled when they parted and patted her on her head making her glare at him- and he chuckled at her prompt reaction. He knew she hated it when he treated her like a child. He had smiled gently at her then.
“Pick me up?”
The slight lilt at the end making it a question, and her eyes had lit up. She had nodded her head vigorously. Vowing to herself that she would pick him up after every journey of his.
And she had never missed any of his Arrivals yet- no matter where she had to be or was - she had religiously been there when he set foot back into Delhi. And here she was, resolutely, following up on her promise- to herself and to him.
She looked down at her Rolex, and looked back up again- just in time to catch him walking slowly out the automatic gates. He was frowning slightly at the floor, as he walked- looking deep in thought, his bag hoisted on his shoulder. Was he thinking about what she had told him? Had he thought about it at all? Had it been a conscious decision of his to do all those things- maybe in his way trying to let her know it was never going to be what she wanted? She shook her head once at all those thoughts. This was her problem- not his- and she was going to deal with it like an adult.
And most importantly, she was not going to let this make things sour between them.
So she hitched up that smile onto her face and started walking briskly towards him.
“Arnav!”
He had convinced himself that she wasn’t going to be there when he landed, by the time he walked out the Airport. Why would she? She had the full right to be upset and angry with him after he’d so callously left her, instead of making her understand his point of view- and then he’d gone and done all that… stuff… and left her here to deal with the media. He was damned sure the Board hadn’t let this golden chance to take potshots at her go by. He knew most of them had a problem with her being the only person he trusted implicitly. And she had dealt with it all; with that quite gracefulness he had started to associate with her persona- and hadn’t uttered a word. He expected her to withdraw or explode. After all, Arnav Singh Raizada’s famous temper was only matched by Khushi Kumari Gupta’s!
So he was understandably astonished when he heard his name being called in that familiar voice.
“Arnav!” He turned around with a jerk, feeling the blood that had iced over throughout the flight flow again, albeit sluggishly. She was here? She had come? Where was she? He dropped his luggage, uncaring of all that was in there, and turned around in a circle, looking for her, had he misheard it then? Was his overworked mind playing tricks on him? Then, there were these two hands, snaking around him from the back - pulling him into those almost crushing hugs. Well, as crushing as she could manage it anyway. He sighed, heartbeat slowing down. Khushi had come for him then. Arnav turned around apprehensively. Unwilling to look and see those sparkling eyes shadowed by the misery he had caused her. But he had to, hadn’t he? It was his job to make her pain go away. Arnav had always done it - Although, these days - he had seemed to be failing her at fronts.
“Ayyyyeeeee!” she had yelped, as the seething hot oil from the wok had splashed her delicate fingers while frying a jilapi. The ten year old knew she had nobody to make it all better. So she had wept softly, scared to attract the attention of the Ogre-ish Hari Prakash who would just call her clumsy. She didn’t want to be sent away from here! She didn’t! That’s how the Chottey Saab of Sheesh Mahal had found her. Sobbing quietly while frying a jalebi. He had come into the kitchen to see what treat awaited him, and had found this... this baby frying jalebis and crying. It had broken his fifteen year old heart. Arnav Malek had bit out a swift order to one of Hari Prakash’s underlings and had, before Khushi had known it, pulled her away from the kitchen into the Main House. A place she had never stepped into. A palace, Khushi had thought then. One that should be inhabited by fairies and princes and lots and lots of treasure. She had looked around, pain forgotten, taking in the riches before her. Arnav had, ignoring everybody pulled this.. this child into the bathroom and had gone to work on her burn from the first aid box kept there. Cleaning the angry red blister that seemed to have taken over her tiny fingers and smearing it with an antiseptic cream. He had then done something that he wouldn’t have admitted under the threat of torture; kissed it better like his mother used to do for him when he was that age. The sparkling hazel eyes that dampened in gratitude had made him feel like the biggest heel on the planet and then, she had smiled, a big one that had somehow sneaked into his tough young heart, constricting it. Arnav had known at that very moment, she was his to keep. Khushi had that moment known that the magical palace of Sheesh Mahal did actually have a Prince in it. She was his slave for life.
So, he had turned around and looked at her, knowing that her pain would be punishment he would have to bear. Except, was she smiling? That open smile that seemed to light up a room. When Arnav didn’t speak, she giggled, “Too much partying steal your voice Arnav?” Khushi asked archly. “Or, had the supermodels bitten them off?” When his face reddened, eyes widening comically, she had doubled over in laughter again. Arnav had known. Everything was going to be okay. Khushi had, as she always had, somehow healed herself. There was no need for the talk, he sighed in gratitude. Must have been one hell of a good deed that he had done that had resulted into this. He smiled at her, speaking finally. “The cheek! Come on Khushi, we need to get going. Don’t you want to see what I’ve got from Hong Kong for you?” she smiled that bright smile then, and linked her arm in his. “Let’s go, then!” and everything was right again in his world.
“I’m driving.” she said curtly, as he made to go around to the Driver’s side and he groaned. “Oh, come on, Khushi!”She shook her head at him stubbornly and he relented- like always. and in no time, they were back on the Delhi streets, driving back home, as Khushi told him everything that had gone on in his absence. The new development on the Warsi-Thakur deal was giving her some trouble and, she had asked him to look into it. Arnav would, he knew it. He also knew why the troubles were stirring. Both the old men; Warsi and Thakur were notorious male chauvinists and it’s only because Khushi had gone on to talk with them had they started the so called troubles. They want a man’s man, do they? He thought with a smirk. Arnav would give them so much of one, that pretty soon they would be begging for Khushi to come back. He did not like his protegee being objectified by a bunch of old goats. He looked ahead, they were home. Another ritual, she looked at him with those lollypop eyes and said, “I want to see my gift. Now. Before I decide if you are to be let back home or not,” and then she had grinned. He had laughed. Relieved. Rituals. Continuity of them soothed Arnav. His schedule- wrapped mind and he had looked at her, “Let’s go up first...” and so they went in, with Arnav knowing that she would jump at his travel bag, tearing it apart in an attempt to find her gift.
It was a stunning piece of Chinese Qing Dynasty antique. A blackwood lacquer jewellery box with jade inlays of figurines dancing. It had 13 drawers and a satin finish. Khushi was in love with it. He smiled looking at her dreamy expression, “Check the drawers first,” he advised gently. She did, and in the thirteenth drawer, there was a jade hairpin. Carved. Malachite green with peonies carved all over, and a gold inlaid bunch of peonies blooming at the top. “Peonies signify precious, irreplaceable and noble in the Chinese culture,” he said quietly to her, watching her eyes widen. Dampen like they had in Hari Prakash’s kitchen a lifetime ago. “You are all those and more to me Khushi,” he whispered. She smiled, wanting to cry. Knowing that it would upset him. Arnav wasn’t able to handle raw emotions, strong ones or even the volatility of them. He just understood practicality. That a man like him had thought so much about a gift was in itself earthshaking. She smiled again, brightly. Blindly. “Thank you Arnav!” she had jumped into his arms, holding on to him, as if for her dear life. Khushi could feel Arnav’s breathing slowing. All this time and he still worried about bringing her the wrong gift. She smiled into his maroon jumper. What a strange man. What a strange and wonderful man.
He felt relief wash through him. The smile, the hug- it had been genuine. Those hazel eyes had had a disarming sincerity in them, when they had shone with unsuppressed gratitude and affection for him. For Him. She had understood him. She had heard what he’d wanted to say- poorly veiled by the significance of the gift he’d given her. And she had answered back, in that honest and loving way of hers. What they had was too precious, and they were not going to lose it. Her reaction had reassured him of that. The last of the weight on his heart was lifted. They were going to be fine. Like always.
She hugged him, till he reciprocated to the hug- rolling his eyes as he did so- and she laughed, knowing very well that he was feeling embarrassed. She pulled back then, and clapped her hands together. “Dinner!”
He smiled at that. She must have made sweets for him. She had always done that. The Halwai’s assistant- she had been horrified the first time he’d told her he was not allowed sweets.
He looked up from the book he was reading when he heard the soft, hesitant knock. wondering who would want to see him so late, he had walked to it and opened the door- to reveal the small child he’d helped that afternoon. she was standing in the hallway looking sheepish, as she hid her hands behind her back. he looked around and looked back at her. what was she doing, roaming the house at night?
but before he could ask her that, she had held out her hands to him. a small tin dabba held in her small hands. she had looked up at him, her eyes shining with anticipation- and he took the box from her mutely- curiously opening it to find what she’d brought so late at night. he had found five Malai Ladoos neatly arranged along with one orange-red jalebi inside it- and had smiled down at her.
“Hum... hum aapka shukriya ada karna chahte the...”(“I...I wanted to thank you...”) she whispered, looking around and then back at him- still standing in the doorway. “wo mithaiya humne banai... aa-aap khaenge na?”(“I made those sweets for you... will you eat them?”) she had asked him timidly. he had smiled at her- a little sadly- and her own smile had faltered ever so slightly.
“Mujhe meetha khana mana hai.” (“I’m not allowed sweets.”)he told her- and watched in amusement, as her mouth fell open in shock. then, her eyes narrowed as if in indignation, and she looked down at the box. “Hum Badi Malkin se baat kare? Ke aapko iss bar meetha khane de? Aapne koi shaitani ki hai kya? Aapko unhone sazaa dee hai?” (“Should I talk to Badi Malkin? To let you have sweets just this once? Did you do something wrong or mischievous? Has she punished you for that? ”)
He chuckled then, shaking his head at her endearing reasoning. Would she understand that he wasn’t allowed to eat any sweet for no fault of his? He had made a spur of the moment decision then. He couldn’t let her work go to waste like this! He had opened the box and taken out one Malai Ladoo from it, looking up at her curious face, he had winked at her smiling, and bitten into it. she had smiled again- a wide, bright smile- and he had felt like his heart was swelling with happiness. he had held the box out to her and she had looked at him again- her eyes wide, as if in disbelief. he had jerked his head and encouraged her to take one sweet. she had chosen the jalebi, and bit into it- but had stopped him when he’d made to take out another Ladoo from the box.
He looked at her questioningly, and she shook her head- gulping down the jalebi faster- so that she could talk. “Chottey Sahib, apni Amma se jhoot nahi bolna chahiye, paap lagtey hai.” (“Chottey Sahib, you shouldn’t tell your Amma lies. It’s wrong. ”)she had pouted for a second, but then a smile had lit up her face yet again, in the next moment. snatching the box away from him, she hid it behind herself again. “Hum kal Badi Malkin ke liye khoob sari mithai banaenge- aur phir unse kahenge ke aapko ek din ke liye meetha chakhne de!” (“I will make lots of sweets for Badi Malkin tomorrow- and then I’ll tell her to let you eat sweets for one day!”)
And she had turned and run away just as abruptly as she had come. he had stood there for a moment, shocked at the abruptness and randomness of her actions- and had tried to call after her- “Arrey! Suno toh!” (“Arrey! Listen!”) but she had been long gone by then. He had shaken his head again. He would have to tell her about his disease some other time then. And yet- he’d felt completely fulfilled by that one small taste he’d had of the delicious Ladoo. he would have to praise her about that too, he had decided.
He sat down at the table, as she started serving him dinner. It was spaghetti bolognese, with a fresh garden salad and a side of garlic bread. All the while she chatted. Brightly like a little magpie, chattering about the happenings in Delhi while he was gone, the scandals he had missed. Did he know that a new restaurant was opening? She had asked. Just what she needed, she bemoaned, another competition. Naivedyam would never survive another year, at this rate. Arnav felt his heart swell. Home. Home, indeed. He smiled, reminding her of her nomination by the National Restaurant Association of India. She had moaned again, Of course she wouldn’t win! “Why would I?” She had almost cried, sticking her lower lip out like a child. “I am not going to! My restaurant is going to sink into oblivion!” she had buried her head on the table with a pathetic little moan, making him laugh. “You are going to win Ms. Gupta,” he said, “And I know just the place for your award,” he motioned towards an alcove in the wall. It had held his award for the Entrepreneur of the Year. Arnav knew that she would win... and he would be honored to share it with her. Khushi looked at him, eyes shining brightly again. They left the rest unsaid, there weren’t any need for words really. Not any more. It was settled. Instead, she walked over to the freezer, taking out that tray of Malai Laddoo she had prepared for him. Watching his eyes widen with appreciation. The first time she had made it for him, she thought he hadn’t been able to eat beyond one. Now, he will. She had made sure of it, without harming a hair in his head. Without hurting his health. As Arnav gobbled down laddoos after another, she looked on, with a smile. He never knew, but it was for him that she still made sweets. It was for him that Naivedyam existed. Her tribute to this wonderful man.
Later that night, Khushi sat down with her paperworks, those belonging to her personal baby. Her child. Her passion; Her restaurant Naivedyam. It was a stressful job, managing a corporation and then, a restaurant at the end of each day. She did it. She did it happily, with a certain smugness. That was because Naivedyam was her own. She had built it with her sweat and blood, without anybody’s help. She had taken the startup loan from Arnav, much to his disgust, “A loan!” he had said, “Take it all!” she had just laughed. Then, had managed to pay it all back within the next two fiscal years, with interest. He had tried to be stubborn about it. He had tried sarcasm, anger and even gentle forms of blackmails. She had stood resolute. Then, after she had paid back, the silly man had bought her a car, a Mercedes S600 and she knew, she just knew - that it was the double of what she had paid back. Khushi shook her head, he was... she sighed, not an easy man to understand. But so easy to love, she bemoaned - oh so easy. She really wanted to win the best restaurant award, she thought. It would mean something. A culmination of her lifework. A recognition of Khushi Kumari Gupta as a restaurator; someone other than Arnav Singh Raizada’s protege. A person apart from ASR’s ward- her own person. Because, at the end of the day, something told her - she couldn’t stay forever.
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