Chapter 16
4:04 AM
She looked into the mirror after having vigorously splashing water into her still swollen and stinging eyes while the waterfall of hair fell around her face making her look younger than her years - almost like the child he had labelled her to be. Gone was the cut crystal sharp, polished facade of the woman she had tried so hard to be - all the time. Instead, big vulnerable eyes dominated her face. The hot lump of glass was in her throat again. A child. That’s all she was to him. The long damp hair clung around her face, to her neck, down her back almost down to her waist. She had never cut it, clinging it to it as a semblance - a holdover from her past. He would often ruffle it, play with the strands absentmindedly and Khushi had never had a haircut beyond trimming and shaping. For some reason, Arnav has an issue with her cutting her hair. Was it a guardian thing? She smiled bitterly. Was it holding her back from growing up? Should she give up on her past and move on to the future ahead of her? One had to sacrifice something to be rid of their past, didn’t they? Khushi held up her long hair and twisted it into a haphazard knot on the top of her head. The Buddha Hair as Arnav usually termed it. She broke out into a small smile that melded with the sob that followed, surprisingly fluidly. She had set off a chain of events with that call. There really was no going back from them - whether she wanted to or not was but a secondary consideration right now. Her hopes and dreams concerning Arnav Singh Raizada was over; shattered by his carelessly cold words teamed with that beautiful, shard-like smile and she wasn’t blind enough to think it wasn’t. She would shed off her past like a second skin, and she knew just how to do it. She got out, eyes red, skin pallid, in her plaid shirt, worn jeans and drove down to Bandra.
Hey you! out there in the cold
Getting lonely, getting old, can you feel me
Hey you! Standing in the aisles
With itchy feet and fading smiles, can you feel me
Hey you! don't help them to bury the live
Don't give in without a fight.
It took surprisingly little time to get there. Someone had once mentioned Jean Claude Biguine hair salon there once, in the passing. Khushi didn’t know Mumbai that well but she would take what she could. She parked the car with a jerk, and gathering her courage, stepped down. Time to grow up for real Khushi Kumari Gupta, she grimaced. Time to cut the umbilical cord. She briskly walked down the glitzy french inspired corridor, only to flash her Black Amex Card at the front reception. Khushi knew just how to do it too, she thought with a grim smile as the receptionist made calls and suddenly she was taken over by mini tornadoes. What better analogy for a life changing event than a natural disaster? She thought, dark humour reasserting itself as she felt being guided into a room. Change, as they said, was needed for survival. For Khushi, it was utmost for the survival of the part of her that hadn’t died with Arnav’s callous rejection. She had to let go of the dead holdovers of her past before they rotted, poisoned and killed what little of her was left that didn’t revolve around the existence of the man Arnav Singh Raizada was, and every step he had taken up to this point. They had, after all, a relationship that transcended everything else. Khushi would save it again this time.
Hey you! out there on your own
Sitting naked by the phone would you touch me
Hey you! with your ear against the wall
Waiting for someone to call out would you touch me
Hey you! would you help me to carry the stone
Open your heart, I'm coming home
But it was only a fantasy
She felt numb as her hair was washed, and washed again. Kérastase hair treatments to relieve you from your stress and leave your locks visibly healthier, shinier and smooth, they said. She didn’t care. Sheer numbness. She welcomed it. Craved it. Was it how the priestesses of Arnav’s Hellenic lores felt when they were washed, symbolizing washing away their pasts? They were a part of her bedtime stories as a teenager... Now she didn’t know. Is that what they had felt? This numbness? Khushi didn’t mind. She could live with it. It would have to do for the years ahead. Because Khushi Kumari Gupta won’t be wasting it on Arnav Singh Raizada any longer. She would move on. This would help. They sat her up in front of the mirrored table with light bulbs the mirror frames. Like a dressing table out of a 50s actresses’ fantasy. She sat there as the stylist kept snipping. A gorgeous man. French, she noted dispassionately as he kept chattering like a magpie on speed, hands waving, eyes flashing. She just nodded. Not hearing anything. Bliss. She saw the layers emerging; Asymmetrical. Razored. Highlighting her cheekbones. The waist length hair shortening to mid shoulders. Waves. Thick, choppy bangs parted to a side. The demure Khushi Kumari Gupta disappearing into the wild haired, crazy, sexy siren emerging; the embodiment of the rock couture - as if off some rockstar’s biography with lazy sloe eyes and bad girl hair. Who was she? She looked down at the matte white floor dispassionately where her hair lay about like brush swishes of chinese ink. Like her past being shed. Where did she go from there?
The wall was too high as you can see
No matter how he tried he could not break free
And the worms ate into his brain.
Hey you! out there on the road
Always doing what you're told, can you help me
Hey you! out there beyond the wall
Breaking bottles in the hall, can you help me
Hey you! don't tell me there's no hope at all
Together we stand, divided we fall.
Her hair was then blow dried, a repetitive distant drone that was oddly soothing for her frayed nerves, with products she wouldn’t use ever again. She was assured that she wouldn’t need them though. The cut, the stylist said proudly, was good enough. The waves emerged sleek and bold, the sloe eyed beautiful wild child that nobody would mistake for a child stared out of the mirror looking into her eyes curiously, as if asking - where do we go from here? Her eyes lightened. She noted the surprising lack of weight on her back and was even more surprised to see that she liked what she saw. Was that a part of the deal? She nodded distractedly at the stylist, leaving him a large tip and walked out. Into the the sunshine. Into the rain. Surprising how both came at the same time today. As if bidding her to choose. She shivered as the warmth of the sun started fading, as the darkness of the clouds took over. Her phone buzzed. A text message.
Will be gone for three days. Left Percy with Aman’s assistant in Cuffe Parade . Don’t worry. Work calls. - A
She shut her eyes again the emotions threatening with the onslaught of meaningless tears. As if burrowing to pour out in barrages of hot, seething feelings. Wasted. Arnav had taught her the importance of self in some ways. She wouldn’t waste her emotions on someone who trivialized them. The skies darkened to pewter. It was as if they knew that her choice was already made. Khushi got into her car, and smiled for the first time, revving up the engine. She took the phone and tossed it behind her back where it probably ended on the passenger seat. If not, too bad. Either way, her choice was made. She would have to abide by it. Thunder growled. It was as if the nature too agreed with her. She drew down the windows and felt the rain wash it all away. Strange, she thought, how Arnav had been the driving force for all that is major in her life - either good or very bad. As she drove down her way home, a sudden thought came to her - One that would probably define all her actions from there onwards. “It really is never as it’s supposed to be”.
Anjali’s mind was reeling. Was it possible to fall more in Love with this man? Will it ever be how it is supposed to be? Tears filled her eyes as she cupped his cheeks, pressing her lips to his. Tonight, it would be about them- she decided. Two Lovers. Not a Husband and a Wife. Not Shyam and Anjali nor The Prince of Diamonds and his Rani Sahiba.
Only them- at their rawest, purest elements.
Because she feared the Morning. And she would gather whatever unguarded moments of Pure Love her Husband gave her. If the Love he could give her could only be in the dark cloak of the night- then so be it. She would take it.
She felt him kiss her back. His tongue running over her lower lip, as his hands brought her closer to him- each movement, each gesture of his spelling out his urgency. She gave herself up to him then. Her hands clutching his shoulders, as his kisses moved rapidly from drugging to scorching to consuming.
His hands skimmed her body, caressing- leaving a trail of unquenchable fire on her bare skin. Her hands cupped his cheeks, moving to bury themselves into his hair, tugging at the soft strands. He left her mouth, and his lips blazed a path down her jaw to her throat, a shudder running through her as he nipped at the pulse at the base of her throat. She arched her neck, and he worshiped every inch of skin exposed to him. Hungrily.
Her hands clenched at the sleeves of his shirt as he gently bit her at her shoulder- and she gasped, her eyes closing, her teeth coming to bite down on her lower lip. She felt him look up at her, and opened her eyes. Only to find him a hairsbreadth away from her. His teeth freeing her lower lip from her teeth and nibbling on it, as her eyes drooped again.
She gasped as she found herself being pushed back on the bed, him coming to hover over her. her eyes opened yet again- locking with his inky black depths. She watched as his eyes softened, an all encompassing emotion filling them up- and with them filling her heart with a yet unrealized passion for this beautiful man- the man she had somehow gotten for herself. Her Man.
Her hands snaked around his neck then, and she tried to get up- get closer to him, but he clasped her hands in his, raising them above her head, pinning them there- allowing her very little scope to move. His other hand caressed her face, her neck, and his lips lowered to hers again. stopping a breath away from hers, as he whispered- “No Rani Sahiba, Let me Love you Tonight.”
She sighed then- and surrendered herself. To the Husband she had always wanted. To The Prince. To her Prince of Darkness.
She lay there against him, feeling his heartbeat thudding against her back, his bronze hand lying heavy on her stomach, sending pleasant lazy tingles throughout her as his fingers traced out random patterns on her skin. She sighed and closed her eyes, as she felt him bury his face in her hair and inhale, that one gesture sending her heartbeat racing. and still they lay there, in the aftermath of their explosive lovemaking- reveling in the return of those feelings... of surfacing of the feelings that they’d kept under wraps for too long.
Would it last, though? she asked herself. her small hand coming down to wrap around his wrist automatically, gently untangling her legs from his, even as her other hand shot out to clutch at the saree that had been discarded somewhere beside their bed. Would these surfaced emotions that he seemed to have kept on a tight leash last? Would he look her in the eyes the next morning with the same tender love in his like he had tonight? Or was this only her mind conjuring up yet another set of dreams? Setting her up for yet another disappointment? The sigh that escaped her this time was wistful. Was it even possible that he loved her like she did him? She almost shook her head- before she caught herself and decided that it would be better to get herself out of his arms. She gulped back the tears that rose in her eyes at that thought and her movements became rapid, as she dislodged herself from the warm cocoon of his arms, all the way feeling bereft- her heart crying out for a little more of that contentment that she had experienced minutes ago there.
But tonight was to be different than every other night that she’d spent together with her husband in more ways than one apparently. Because just as Anjali had covered her chest with her cream colored saree and shifted away from him, her feet almost touching the ground, her Husband had caught her wrist in a strong hold.
She looked back at him, her eyes widening as his grip around her wrist tightened. She watched him, in quiet shock, as he shook his head. “Not tonight Rani Sahiba.” He whispered, his eyes holding her captive. “Not after I just realized How exactly it is supposed to be.” He said, and before Anjali had the time to mull over that one sentence, which had for some reason sent her Heart into frenzied Palpitations, she had been yanked forward and pinned firmly beneath him again.
And then began the torturous caresses that left her gasping and yet wanting for more, the feather light kisses that held more passion than anything she had experienced, the soft murmurs of “Rani Sahiba”, “Anjali” and “Meneka” periodically falling from those lusciously full lips of his- in that melodiously Masculine voice sending her to the brink over and over again. When they finally united this time around, Anjali thought, gasping for breath as he moved over her, inside her, torturously slowly, teasing her, as she pleaded with him, Maybe it really was Love.
And then, every other thought flew out of her mind, as she cried out in pure pleasure, wave after wave of ecstacy crashing over her taking her to heights hitherto unknown, her eyes closing, neck arching even as she clutched him closer to herself even as he threw his head back and cried her name. “Anjali!”
This time, when he collapsed into her, and she hugged him- he didn’t separate from her. He lay there, and she reveled in the reassuring weight of her Love above her. She closed her eyes, sighing- a sigh of pure contentment- as she buried her head in his shoulder, her arms going around him- tightening, and wished that if this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake up.
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