Chapter 14
4:00 AM
Khushi had just pulled her SUV into the Colaba highway, parking illegally to one side, bathed in the silvery light of the full moon. If a traffic police somehow caught her at it, the least of her problems was losing her license, she thought with a sigh. She had a drunk to find and kill. Or to maim. Just a little at least, she thought grumpily. Khushi was looking on both sides for her drunk erstwhile ex-guardian. Worried sick. Just worried, period. What was wrong with him these days? She had first thought that it might be business but Khushi was well aware of who they did business with. There were nobody here that would require for Arnav to wine and dine himself. Unless it was something more... pleasure driven. She made a face in disgust. How had he ended up so far away from where they were living - In Colaba, South Mumbai - further along than Churchgate! Was something bothering him? Was it work? He had a habit of shielding her from the worst of it. It was often Khushi who needled the truth out of her reluctant ex-guardian. Was there trouble at work? Was AR in trouble? Khushi’s troubled thoughts too were taking a deeper plunge south when she heard a surprising deep, if somewhat hoarse baritone hum, then, sing out bars to a very very known song. A song she wouldn’t expect to hear on the streets of Colaba. Ever. Especially at this time of the night. Even though the moon was full, shiny and giving off a silvery light to warrant it.
Moon river, wider than a mile
I'm crossing you in style some day
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker
Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way
She turned so fast, at the back of the mind somewhere Khushi found herself wondering why she didn’t have a whiplash. Was that... Was that Arnav? Where was that song coming from? There were such thick vegetations on either sides of the now deserted highway that it was, even in the full moonlight very hard to tell where the man, known for dressing in all blacks was singing. Standing or, she amended, remembering his drunken call, sprawling somewhere and as she knew he was, Khushi just had to find him. Then... Oooh! She could almost taste what would be meted out to him then. The singing started again, slightly off keyed this time.
Two drifters, off to see the world
There's such a lot of world to see
We're after the same rainbow's end, waitin' 'round the bend
My huckleberry friend, moon river, and me
the off keyed, if spirited singing came to a rousing end, and Khushi heard applauses. Now he was applauding to himself? Really? She walked further along and noticed, he was singing to a half grown puppy. A mongrel, who stared on adoringly, licking at whatever part of Arnav’s hand it could reach; obviously in love. Arnav was applauding to himself on the dog’s stead, it seemed. She suddenly remembered the unbelievable huge (or so it had seemed at that time), pedigreed and old chocolate colored dog he had owned when she had first come to Sheesh Mahal. The dog whose death had made him incredibly sad. Arnav had always loved dogs. Khushi stared, despairingly. There was drunk Arnav Singh Raizada. He would still be a gentleman, carry out normal conversation, only the excessively bright eyes giving away his state of inebriation; such was his iron-clad self control on himself. This though was drunk Arnav. She didn’t know what to do with him. When Arnav had called her, his speech was slurred, and the inner rhythm had seemed very off - telling her that he might be a little drunk which she thought made him sort of unsteady. Reckless, perhaps. This was something different. Khushi had no idea how to deal with this side of the man she reluctantly loved. Simply put: It was a side of him that she had never seen before.
She watched as he smiled at the dog, a full toothy smile- no one except Khushi would believe that the ASR was capable of- and pat it heavily on the head, making it sit down unsteadily. He chuckled as he saw the pup’s knees buckle and bent down to scoop it up in his arms. He cradled it in his arms like it was a baby, and lightly tickled it’s belly before saying something to it, smiling all the time. Khushi rolled her eyes. Looks like ASR got a new buddy, she thought, sardonically, before her eyes softened and a small smile touched her lips- as she took in the scene in front of her.
Arnav had sat down on the road again- his legs folded underneath him and arranged the pup on his lap. He bent down and kissed the dog on its head as he scratched it behind its ears and patted it on its back, making it comfortable on his lap. Then, Arnav Singh Raizada- CEO and Owner of the Raizada Royale Chain of Hotels, Chairman of the AR Group started patting the dog in his lap and singing a lullaby to it- in a horribly off key voice... a hindi Lullaby which Khushi remembered from almost fifteen years ago. She chuckled, as the pup whimpered a little at the sudden assault from the howling big man, before it arranged itself on Arnav’s lap and laid its head on its paws- as if resigning itself to the torture of hearing the man sing as well as bearing the pats. She shook her head. It was time to save the poor dog, and get the drunk dog-lover home. She would have to think about the long lectures and the dismemberment plans for Arnav later.
He looked up as she walked to him. “Khushi! You came! Look who I found!” he exclaimed, as he waved his hand around- while his other hand continued to pat the puppy. She smiled at him, “Arnav, let’s go home?” she asked him gently- noting with tenderness how he looked around him and looked back at her again- his caramel brown eyes sparkling like a little child’s would. “Can we take him home?” he asked, and she was reminded of the advertisement they showed on the TV, where the small boy brought home a kitten and hid it from his mother, she laughed and nodded. He smiled a big smile at her this time- and Khushi had to stop herself from clutching her chest. His eyes twinkled with pure delight, the small crinkles at the corners of his eyes making him look even more adorable, his tousled hair falling on his forehead and looking windswept added more charm to that open, smiling and handsome... oh, so handsome face. In a word- she had been almost knocked on her ass. Shaking herself out of a possible episode, she bent down and gently took his arm- silently chiding herself for thinking about Arnav like that, when he was so drunk he was acting like a big baby. “Come on, up you get.”
He stood up, the pup still cradled in his arms, and looked down at her. He bent down slightly, and thrust his arms under her nose, making her look at his new baby. “He’s cute isn’t he?” he asked, and Khushi smiled and nodded, looking up at him. “He’ll be my second Baby then.” Arnav said, happily, and Khushi’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “You’re so grown up, I can’t call you my baby anymore!” he pouted, and then smiled again abruptly, looking down at the pup. “I’ll raise him- and he won’t grow up ever. I’ll keep him my baby forever. I wish I could keep you too.”
Khushi didn’t know what she was supposed to say to that. A small tear escaped her eye, and she looked down, fidgeting with the key in her hand, even as she led him to the car. But he stopped her, pulling her back, and lifting her head with a finger under her chin. She looked up and he smiled sadly, wiping the tear away from her face. “You’ll always be my first baby though, Khush.” he whispered, and she saw something indefinable flicker in those caramel depths. Something so deep- she couldn’t begin to describe it. “However grown up you seem to have become- however much the definitions be changing- you will always be Mine.” he said- his voice was hoarse- and Khushi’s throat had dried up- her mind was a tangled mess of emotions, alarm, confusion and an exasperating mixture of all three of them- which left her immobile. There she stood, a hairs breadth away from him- his musky scent ensnaring her yet again- even as she struggled to inject some logic into the proceedings- her eyes locked with his- unable to look away, as he bent down, his finger and thumb still holding her chin steady. Her breath hitched, as his eyes dropped from hers to settle on her lips before he looked up at her again. There they stood, Man, Woman and Dog. In the middle of a deserted road. Arnav, with the dog still cradled to his chest- holding her face with one hand, while she stood uselessly in front of him- anticipating yet fearing his next move. He gently pulled her to himself, and she shuffled closer- the dog was practically being caged between their chests now- and it whimpered a little. But neither its new Master- nor the lady paid any attention. Arnav’s hand slowly inched upwards, cupping her small face in his large warm, lightly callused palm. She could almost feel his scorching gaze on her lips- and she shivered. The thumb that had been holding her chin, now was drawing sensual circles at the corner of her lips, and Khushi’s eyes drooped. her lips opened slightly, breathing heavily through her mouth as he ran his thumb over her lower lip- his rough skin brushing against her softer skin, catching against the delicateness of it, her lips - causing delicious tingles to run through her. Her eyes snapped open, as she felt his nose nudge hers- and his breath mingling with hers. She stared into those captivating eyes, as he nudged her nose again, and moved even closer- if that was even possible. The hand caressing her chin moved away, a minute’s respite from his enchantment - until it moved to cup her neck at the back. A gentle yet unbreakable grip that made her feel as weak as a day old kitten. A wash of heat, a dizziness, her entire body broken out in goosebumps. His hot breath feathering on her face, against her neck, seeping into hidden corners and crannies - as if searching for places to hide into. She was numb. But not really. This numbness was something new. A sweet languidness where your blood is replaced by thick, slow running golden honey. There was electricity running through her in waves- and her limbs felt heavy and immovable- but her world seemed to be revolving around the Man that had her in his arms at that moment, enthralled- and she couldn’t bring herself to care about anything else. She caught her breath as his impossibly soft and full lips brushed against hers. A mere whisper. And yet so much more. she watched fascinated, as his eyes closed completely- those beautiful, long lashes resting on his cheeks, as he brushed his lips over hers again and again. Only mere brushes, soft and tender- but scorching in its intensity as it dug up the emotions she had tried so hard to bury over the past few weeks. And it was then that Khushi was brought down to the earth abruptly. What was she doing? She was kissing Arnav! Arnav! She gasped, and her hands automatically came up to clutch his shoulders. She would ruin everything if she let this go on! She had to back away- this was... this was practically taking advantage of Arnav when he was at his most vulnerable! Khushi felt disgust and anger at herself rise inside of her and she turned her head away from him, closing her eyes briefly, as she felt him kiss her hair softly. Hating herself for that small part in her heart, where she knew she would store this moment with him- and live it over and over again. where she would revel in it. Shaking the thoughts from her head, she looked up at him again, and smiled shakily- a heavy weight settling on her heart as she realized just what she had almost done. “Come on Arnav, don’t you want to make sure your se-second baby is well fed and bathed and comfortable?” she asked him, barely keeping her voice from breaking and betraying her emotions. He opened those eyes again, confusion reigning in those caramel orbs before he looked down at the pup still held against his chest. He smiled, and pulled her back to him, kissing her temple before tucking her to his side firmly and walking them the rest of the way to the car. “I’ll make sure both of you are comfortable!” he laughed- and Khushi blinked a tear back. Take him Home, Khushi- she told herself sternly, as she sat him down in the passenger seat dog and all and buckled him in- scolding herself for the thrill that ran through her as she bent over him and he bumped his head with hers his eyes glinting mischievously. He’s not in his senses- don’t dream of what you can never have Khushi Kumari Gupta! she told herself- as she walked around to the driver’s side and buckled herself in. You’ll only ruin things yourself. She sighed and started the car- shaking her head as Arnav started patting the dog again and singing the horrible lullaby even more loudly than before- throwing her mischievous grins as he did so. This was going to be a long drive home. If she pursed her lips midways, trying hard not to smile then it was perhaps nobody’s business but hers. If she surreptitiously touched them while Arnav played with his baby, too engrossed to notice such things, then it was her secret to keep. To feel him on her lips, to taste him, branded on hers. Khushi had never kept secrets from Arnav - there never had been reason for her to. Maybe now was a good time to start again, she thought, even as he got second wind and that horrible horrible wonderful lullaby started - all over again.
Hindsight being 20/20, Shyam staggered a little - maybe he should have practiced what he had preached to the young Mr. Raizada, instead of joining on his quest for oblivion via a bottle of potent Glenfiddich. He thought potent, wryly, because that alternative that half a bottle of the stuff had done him in was disheartening. It made him feel his age - somewhat. There were enough depressing things to think about tonight without throwing his age in the mix. Had Rani Sahiba come home or was he meant to go pick her up? The protocols eluded him right now, and how! He knew he probably could just call her up and ask, but for the first time in eleven years of his marriage to Anjali Malek Jha, he didn’t want to talk to her. Didn’t know if he could bear it at that very moment. So, off he went, staggering a little to the car waiting for him. The driver jumped out, poker-faced, as if unwilling to note that his usually sharp employer was in such a state. After he had slid into the back seat, eyes closed as he felt the the ghost of a headache coming on, he had asked if the Madam had gone home. The driver had, probably noted his discomfort. Most likely though, he had meant to impress his illustrious employer and had called to find out that yes, yes she had gone off home in the other car hours ago. She hadn’t stayed at the wedding for very long then, he noted. Quite a turn from her usual habits at weddings. There she would stay, talking to the guests, laughing. Shining brightly. As if, he thought eyes closed, trying to relive her own. Recapture what she had missed out at her own wedding. Shyam had half sat, half laid on the back seat, with his legs propped up, eyes squinted against the brightness of the light all around him and heart, perhaps at his heaviest since childhood. Where were they right now? Anjali and him? Here, in this cross-road that his marriage had turned into? Shyam had no personal knowledge of the fact but he was very well read - and all the books kept on espousing how after marriage, the couples’ roads become one. Why hasn't that happened for his own? there were so many mistakes being made. He had made more than half of them himself. But, what about the other half? Who was to blame for those? The child... He closed his eyes. Of course he had understood what not having one meant for Rani Sahiba for whom motherhood was the pinnacle of womanhood. Shyam had never really understood why that was the case. Did she think that it made her less of a woman that she hadn’t made a child with a man she barely tolerated outside of bed? One who she was bound to because of terrible circumstances? But, he digressed - Should he have explained to her why a child is not such a good idea for him? For the Jhas? After all, he wouldn’t be the first person in this family to screw up the child and if the strain of their genes went on - wouldn’t be the last, either.Didn’t he already drive her to her Gods and religion as his father had driven his mother to her parties? Both women had chosen very different path but similar ways of escaping. Now, he shuddered, now... if she chose a way out like his mother had and had there been a child - Shyam shook his head. Thank God there wasn’t. Thank God. He understood what it felt like. He wouldn’t ever do that to a child of his. Shyam could suffer without his Rani Sahiba and, he thought wryly, he probably earned that suffering. What would that poor child have done? He wouldn’t have done anything to deserve it. Did she understand, would she understand that it wasn’t out of hatred or dislike for her that he hadn’t wanted a child with her? The opposite in fact. Shyam had understood. He knew what it was to be a child like that - fucked up. He shook his head. How many more fucked up Jhas could the world take, anyway, he thought tiredly, running distracted fingers through his hair. Why was this the crux of their problems? Didn’t love count for anything? Didn’t it? For Shyam Manohar Jha had laid his heart bare at her feet to be trampled on the moment he had first seen her. Trampled on it had gotten, that fool. Shyam hadn’t minded - it was, as they said, an occupational hazard. He leaned back, the bright lights outside in the otherwise dark roads of South Mumbai elevating his headache, introducing nausea in the mix. The silences? Did she ever think of them? Think what they did to him? How they had torn into him - ripping him apart? They were neither angry, nor sullen. Not sly. They were merely... silences. As if she didn’t have anything to say to him any more. As if, Anjali didn’t quite know what she was supposed to say to the man she was forced to marry. To give her body to. More often than not, she would leave, citing different things to do, when they were alone and not in bed, he thought darkly, because obviously, they had nothing in common outside of it. How he had died a thousand deaths trying... straining to hear the bells in her laughter. That clear sparkling conversations that she excelled at, were all women like that? Why hadn't Shyam noticed it before? Every other woman who had tried, had seemed too eager, too cold, too tall, too short. Some had laughed too much. Others not enough. Some spoke like they didn't know what stop meant, while others hadn't talked nearly enough. To simply put it, no one else to him was his Rani Sahiba. He, her devoted servant. Why hadn't she understood what he had given to her? The jeweller had given her his most precious treasures. The man had given her his vulnerable heart.Had she treasured either? Shyam didn't think so. Not really. He was, it seemed sometimes... simply a mean to an end. The husband she had to be with, because she didn’t know what to do otherwise. Her misplaced sense of gratitude chaining her to him. A fact that the man in him hated... but then was grateful for, at the same time. Then, there was the child. The mythical child she so craved to replace her fallen family. Why wasn't he a part of it as well? Her family? She was his. She was... his. Shyam had needed a family too, he thought despondently. Unfortunately, it seemed, neither had been able to be what the other had needed.
As the car sped through the dark roads, his head pounded, and Shyam slouched down some more, the nausea blurring his eyes. How he wished that there was a cold compress in the car somewhere! He had the driver turn up the cooler until the interior of the car was positively arctic - making him feel... well, better than he had hoped. Never again, he thought, half laughing. Raizada, that spawn of satan, there was no justice in the world if he wasn’t the same way right now. If not worse. Arnav, he thought with a jolt, had drank a lot more than he had. There would really be no justice if he wasn’t suffering similarly, if not more right now, Shyam thought grumpily. He moaned a little, promising to himself that he would never ever drink like that again. All the while knowing that he probably wouldn't be able to keep that particular promise, his life being what it was. His wife being who she was. The tragic part was, an angel though she was - one whose life revolved around God with the husband in the background - she would be quite horrified if she had known that it was her air of tragic acceptance that would probably drive him to drinking - over and over again. Then, if Raizada stayed in Mumbai for much longer... Shyam half moaned and half laughed. The younger man would complete the job for her. Funny, now that he thought about the two of them in the same breath - there was an air of... similarity between the two? He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was the way they both talked - similar intonation of certain words. The Lucknowi tone of their conversations. Funny, he hadn’t thought that Raizada was from Lucknow but who knew anything, really? Arnav didn't speak much Hindi but when he did, you could probably hear it. If you strained for it. Especially someone with ears as keen as Shyam's were. Then, there was this air of... something. It surrounded the two of them. Shyam would very much like to compare the two once they stood side by side on the launch of the Raizada Royale Mumbai. Note their similarities. Would they themselves notice them? Shyam didn't think so. Not really. People hardly ever did. Then, the strangest part was probably the eyes. The shape of the nose though but... the eyes. Was it his imagination or did they both have the same eyes? Anjali's were more artfully shaped and the shape of the eyebrows of course most certainly made a difference but they were just so... similar! Which was, he thought with a laugh, just the perfect thought to show him just how drunk he really was. Arnav was a businessman with an edge he'd never associate with Anjali. That he had a great education and a fantastic upbringing shone through but he was part of the new wave of men. Modern. Fast. Live on the edge. Then there was his undefined relationship with Khushi Kumari Gupta. One, if Shyam was a betting man, he would bet had driven the young tycoon to his own drinks - No. Arnav Singh Raizada was a far different man than Anjali Malek Jha - she was far too olde worlde to his fast-living, do or die, bladed edge where the white and the black blurred to grey. To search for a common ground between the two... he shook his head, a bark of laughter slipping past his lips - He really was way too drunk to pass a fair judgement on anything right now. Except love... he thought, with melancholy, lips pursed. Just love - He just wanted his wife. To hold her. To love her. To make love to her. To touch her soul. To remember why he fell in love with her in the first place. He felt raw, he felt like the flesh had been peeled off his bones with a blunt knife. It was as if she had done it all. Yet, she was all he still sought. All things considered, wasn’t that strange?
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