Chapter 23
4:25 AM
NK Singhania stood there, his arms around the small frame of his very distraught, very heartbroken friend. He had looked up from his coffee and his thoughts... about his failed love... Hoping that his intuition about his friend’s fate in her love was wrong, when she had come in. Dressed like that. In a Plaid Shirt. Her face looking ashen, her eyes ringed with deep shadows. Her always smiling lips hitched slightly downwards in a small, sad frown. Her big Hazel eyes shining... with what he could tell even from that distance was sorrow. And he had gotten up. His eyes wide, as he berated himself for what he had done. It had been because of him. He knew it.
And as she had strode forward, her eyes on him, her lips had quivered- with what he knew were as yet controlled sobs. He had stepped forward, his arms unconsciously raised- and she had dashed straight into them. Their surroundings forgotten. She had clutched his shirt tight as she buried her face in his shirt. Her choking sobs muffled against the cotton, as his arms closed around her, securely wrapping her to himself as he stroked his hand soothingly through her long hair. His eyes closed then, in regret. In Pain. Renewed Pain, as he remembered another woman who had sobbed like that- just like that- in his arms, what seemed like ages ago. And then, he hadn’t been able to do anything.
He walked down the wide, dimly-lit corridor. He sighed in exasperation. He never should have agreed to attend the Wedding. They always took him back to that night. That one night when he had lost his will to move beyond the moment... that moment. That one night which had taken his love away from him- and yet bound him to the meaningless life now he had ahead of him. Cursed. He swore under his breath. He needed drinks. He couldn’t let himself drown in that nightmare again. And so, to distract himself- and partly to get a clue of where in Hell he was, he looked around himself, even as he walked forward. The Cream walls were lit with a soft golden glow, shell shaped lamps attached at almost floor level, lighting up the Paintings and antiques arranged along them in an eery, almost mysterious, glow. He could make out a door that led off of it. He briskly walked forward. His hands buried deep in his pockets. Wishing desperately that he could get out soon.
He stopped in front of the half open door, and curiously knocked on it, before pushing it open all the way. He peered inside and stepped in, not noticing the woman standing in the very corner. Struggling with the pallu of her deep Garnet toned saree. It was a two-toned Pochampalli silk Kathaan. Whisper soft. Visually rich as King Midas himself. Very southern and... very traditional for weddings. He remembered her, with a smile - she was in some ways, just that. and would probably worn something like that if she had been with him at this wedding. The saree itself was in the shades of Garnet - that red-purple of it enhanced by the gold toned grey colour it was matched with. There were rich reddish copper butti work all over the body along with zardosi embroidery in contrasting colours of emeralds and turquoise and a sprinkling of that shade best found in blood oranges. There were stunning geometric kathi ikat works, gold zari embroideries with temple motifs in shades of black and gold all over that ran all over the pallu and on to the wide, maroon double borders, with parallel woven grey-gold stripes, where little mirrors played hide and seek in between to help catch the light. His eyes swept the dressing room, as it seemed to be. Coming to a halt on the petite form in the corner, standing in front of the mirror. Her dark hair in a traditional Bun at the Back of her head. Adorned in white flowers arranged around it in a circle. A Ruby encrusted Pin glinting at the very centre.
Feeling embarrassed, he had just turned around to leave the room- when it seemed she sensed his presence. Because the very next second, she called out to him. “Suniye? Excuse me?” And he froze. That achingly familiar melody of her voice stinging his heart even as it froze his blood. Turned it to ice inside him.
He turned around, tears rapidly forming in his eyes as they trained on the one person they had ached to see... for the past 2 years. Her back still faced him, as she continued to struggle with her clothes. “Could you please help me? I can’t...” her voice trailed off as his numb fingers caught hers. His large bronze fingers encasing her small lily white ones in them, before she lowered her hand, her eyes filling up too as she looked behind her, inches away from his face. He could hear her breath catch, could feel her whole body shiver, could see those petal-lips quiver- and his eyes still refused to blink. Tears now trickling down his cheeks freely. His fingers slowly catching hold of the silk of her pallu. And then she turned away. And his heart- which seemed to have started beating again, after almost two years of sitting hollowly inside his chest- stuttered to a stop yet again. She had wiped her tears away, silently. Like always. And he closed his eyes. His head bending to rest against the nape of her neck. his fingers still clutching her pallu, holding it pinned to her shoulder. A choked sob broke out of his chest- as another followed. A Heartbroken Melody.
His nose rested against the cream of her bare back. His head bowed. His heart crying, wailing inside him. As it mourned for the distance between them. So close. Yet so far. So far away.
“Aap... Could you please...?” She asked him, her voice hoarse with bottled emotion. Her eyes red. And he straightened up. Opening his eyes. And then, for the second time in a matter of five minutes, he froze again. His hands quivering, as his brain tried to comprehend what his eyes saw. His breath left him in a terrified gasp, even as his mind scrambled to catch up with the blinding rage building inside it. Pounding through his veins. His nose flared and his bloodshot eyes shot up, only to meet horrified, scared inky black ones.
“Payal...?” He asked her, his voice not more than a whisper. His hands holding her in place even as she tried to move away. To hide the reality. The horrific reality that she was stuck in. His eyes travelled back to the sight that sickened him. That made him want to murder the sadistic bastard who had dared to do that to her.
Welts. Red, Deep, stinging welts lined her back just under the neckline of her blouse. Long, horizontal- almost striping that delicate looking skin of hers. He felt nauseated. And as his trembling fingers almost unconsciously, lightly traced along the red-purple bruises, she finally wrenched herself away from him. Turning towards him, hiding the monstrosity away. He moved a step forward and she moved one back, her hands tightly clutching her Pallu now. Trembling. Shivering.
“Payal...” he came one step forward again, his hand raised this time and instinctively, she flinched. Her eyes closing. Her whole body convulsing, as if preparing herself for the oncoming blow. And NK felt as if a thousand poisoned knives had ran him through. Her flinch serving as a physical blow to him. And he stopped again. “Did he do this to you, Payal?” He asked her now. And her eyes opened wide. As if realizing her folly. And she shook her head.
Frantically.
As if trying to convince him that it wasn’t her... NK couldn’t even think of that... that Monster as her Husband. Her hair escaped from the tight hold of her bun and hung in light wisps around her face. And he still gazed at her. His eyes telling her that he knew... that he had guessed the truth. The reality that she was trying so desperately to hide.
And then she broke down. Her hands coming up to claw at her face as large fat tears ran down her cheeks. Her eyes closing, as the volume of her sobs increased. A hand clutched at her chest as if it was hurting her. As if it hurt to finally let it all out. And she sank down to the floors. To her knees. In front of him. Even as he watched her. Her fingers clutched at her head, her ears, clawed at her cheeks, cupped her chin, clasped around her throat and then splayed on her chest palms down, as she continued to wail. Howl. Sorrow. Pain. Agony poured from her very being. And he stood there. Helpless. Looking down at her. The flower that he had fallen in love with. The Angel that he had lost his heart to.
And then she looked up at him. Her large eyes questioning, still managing to look innocent. Heart breakingly so. “Wh-why NK? Why?” Her voice was a whisper again. And he couldn’t take it anymore. Bending down, he clasped her in his arms. Hoisting her into himself. Cradling her to his chest, even as he shook with his own cries. Of Helplessness. Of Love. Of Pain. And they cried together. For that lost chance. For something beautiful and fulfilling that could have been.
Something they had let go of, too soon.
But as an idea, spurred on by the horror that he could see had become of her Life, started to form in his mind. He heard a low Baritone call her name out. “Payal? Where are you, wife?”
And he felt her freeze against him. And the next second, she was out of his arms, pushing him away- rubbing away the traces of sorrow from her face. Looking at him fearfully, even as they heard heavy footsteps draw closer.
“You...you have to go! Please!” She said, breathless. Her eyes wide. And all he could do was stand there. Numb. Shaken.
He watched her, as she pushed him behind the door and opened it. Watched from the crack as he saw the brute of a man look down at her suspiciously, before grabbing her arm in an unforgiving vice like grip. Muttering a vile- “Come On. we’re leaving.” That seemed to frighten his delicate lily even more. He watched, Still- as if made out of marble, as the Monster dragged her away. As she looked back once. Her eyes betraying the sorrow, the longing she held in her heart, before she looked away again.
And once again- as had been happening with them for a long time now- NK watched his love walk away from him.
And to this day, NK could still hear those tortured words- the words that still tortured him. That woke him up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat. Shaking. Trembling. Crying.
Why NK? Why?
He looked down at Khushi, as she asked him the same question, and his heart broke all over again. “Why NK? Why?” She whispered, and he sighed. Trying not to sink into that nightmare again. He hugged her to himself again. Almost crushing her. Shushing her gently, as he led her out of the cafe. To her car. Even as she talked. Poured her heart out. Choking in between. Her eyes dry. Red.
And he heard her out. His eyes watching her intently. His heart finally slowing down as his mind registered what the flaw here was. She had done what his Payalia had done. Taken too much on her dainty shoulders to please the world. Because she had thought it was the right thing to do for everyone concerned. When will this girls understand that such decisions weren’t theirs and theirs alone. There are other parties involved who would love to have a say in all this and more? And then he sighed. A long suffering sigh. Because he knew these lovely, headstrong women. Nothing swayed them once they made up their minds. For the first time since he had met Khushi, actually feeling sorry for that Raizada Bastard. Because this time- it was Khushi’s fault.
Because this time, to save herself- to save her heart from the chance of being shattered again- broken irreparably... Khushi had broken Arnav Singh Raizada. And funnily enough... this time, NK sympathized with that poor Bastard.
Khushi sat there listlessly, nodding, a polite smile on her lips - While NK tried coaxing a smile from her. There were half-hearted ones, of course. While he told her about the employee with a funny lisp, paired with a thick southern Mississippi accent and a chronic palpitation that is triggered by NK when he calls out to him. NK had taken to carrying inhalers with him when he was at the office because of that man, regardless of his little oddities is the best hotel manager he had ever hired. Khushi smiled... or it would be more apt to say that she grimaced. A wan pretension of a smile from the girl whose own could light up a city usually. They spoke of the weather - the grey, chilly wetness of it and he had ordered her a cocktail infused strawberry daiquiri cupcake. He winced, imagining her state of mind at that moment. NK could only hope that it didn’t quite resemble the cupcake. Any other time, Khushi would perhaps have been ecstatic, gorging on it. Today though, he noticed, she hadn’t eaten a bite. Merely shredded the confection beyond recognition, while she looked on, a ready and very obviously a fake smile on her face.They had talked about everything and anything under the sun except for what they had needed to talk about. Her relationship with the Raizada. But, he would respect her reticence. He wouldn’t talk about it... with her. Maybe he would pay the poor son-of-a-bitch a visit instead. She looked shattered. Maybe NK would have tried a little harder but being in Mumbai, memories and that very cafe had packed a powerful emotional punch for him and he himself was staggering. Maybe you imagine that memories, having stagnated for such a long time would have lost the hold on you- but everytime, he thought with a grim inner smile, you end up being unpleasantly surprised just how big a mess the simple power of a memory can render you. Maybe he wasn’t as steady as he had hoped to appear because she had snapped out of her misery induced haze for a moment, “Are you okay, NK? You look... strange...” he had quickly straightened himself up. A wakeup call for him. NK had smiled. He had joked it off. Maybe she had bought it. Maybe she hadn’t. Most likely she had, because Khushi wasn’t in the mental station to analyse things well enough. His fixer friend. But that was no excuse for him to drop his mask. It might get to be a habit. Where would he be then? NK had gotten up, paid the bill and had escorted her to her car. He had assured her that he would be there for her, right there in Mumbai, and he had meant it. He was already making calls to the Delhi office to let them know that he wouldn’t be back for a while. NK had a good second-in-command, he would hold it together. He had promised her. He would be there for her. But... he sighed, standing there in the icy drizzle, he had a feeling his heart will take on a battering. Bloody Mumbai always did it to him.
Khushi sat in the car, typing into her phone while her very eccentric driver Rajkumar Prajapati drove on. She hadn’t trusted herself to drive today. For good reason, Khushi thought, as she noted her still shaking fingers. Why was it that it felt like the foundation of her being had collapsed on itself, leaving her to flounder in nothingness? She kept typing. Orders. Mails. Her foundation collapsing wasn’t an excuse for her to give up on working however. There was only five days left for the Raizada Royale Mumbai’s inauguration along with the launching of Naivedyam. Things being what they were... She knew that she had to take care of them both. Of course she had to. It was her job. She could have easily have delegated but Khushi wouldn’t do that. She would carry things on as she always had. It was her job. Just as always. Khushi had made up her mind. Things would remain as they always had and nothing would change. Not even Khushi Kumari Gupta herself. She would make certain of it. Khushi was in the process of shooting off a heated mail to the decorating firm they had given the contract to for the launch party, who were now, as the last bells were tolling, telling her what they could and couldn’t do. Well, we’ll see, Khushi thought, eyes narrowed, misery forgotten, for that moment. Could you do lawsuit, you think? The business person in her sniped, because, she typed furiously.. “I am in possession of a contract that says it will follow, if you break the stipulations,” Khushi smiled grimly, absurdly pleased to have spread her gloom as she had at the moment. It was true then, she thought -misery loves company. She would have kept on typing the furious mail if Rajkumar hadn’t at that very moment chosen to play the tabla on her car’s steering wheel. She looked up, exasperated, to find him singing reshmachya reghani, an old Marathi torch song with gusto. Khushi was about to say something when he broke into singing - Reshamchya Reghani, Laal kalya dhagyani... Karnataki kashida me kadila! Haath naga laau mazhya saadila! Rajkumar sat there, in the traffic. Singing. With gusto. Head shaking, fingers clicking. Khushi sighed and rolled her eyes when he actually threw a fist in the air and exclaimed “Hey!” and then continued singing the same line again, eyes squinting in the midday sun. She was pretty sure that he would never had done it had Arnav been in the car but watching the man sing, mime about wearing a saree, dancing while in the car, unknowingly lifted her spirit up some. He waved his hands around, much to the amazement of the other drivers in the traffic and unashamedly danced, chest thrusting, hands flapping and damned if he wasn’t wiggling his waist around to, still strapped in the car. Taking an astonishing amount of joy from those simple acts. A wide, joyful grin on his face, as he sang. A small smile on her face, Khushi sat back against the luxuriously padded car seat, relaxing her ramrod straight, aching back for the first time that day. A lot would happen. A lot had, already. There was no use crying over spilt milk, or, she smiling wryly, she thought, lost virginity. She had things to do with and for hundreds of people whose livelihood directly depended on her. She would take the day as it came. Arnav Singh Raizada would have to be placed in the back burner along with the dreams she had, involving him for the past years. The happenings of that night... of last night would have to be forgotten. Would have to be removed from their memories because by remembering they both would have far too much to lose. Khushi couldn’t let that happen. So... as she had always done - as she had resolved to do when she had woken up this morning - she would fix it. Arnav would just have to adjust. She laid back, right there in the rigorous Mumbai traffic, with Rajkumar Prajapati singing off key in front of her and for the first time that day, eyes heavy, the exhaustion of the night weighing heavily down on her and was lulled off to sleep. So much to do. So little time. Rajkumar was still singing, she could her in that half awake, half asleep state and a smile crossed her lips. Gumfiyale, Raaghu Mor. Raaghu Mor Jodila. Haath Naka Laau, Mazhya Saadila...
Khushi had watched him fall asleep beside her bed for the last two weeks, and frankly she had had enough. She watched him, sitting beside her bed in that rickety looking chair, his head drooping onto his chest as he snored lightly. She had seen him rubbing his neck for whole days and wincing at the cricks in his neck because of his careless ways of sleeping and yet, he still sat beside her in that chair every night- she shook her head, biting her lip worriedly. He had Diabetes. This haphazard and careless schedule of his was going to take him down one day. She sighed. He was stubborn though. Arnav Stubborn Raizada- she snorted. She had tried coaxing him into going to sleep in his bed- hell she had even tried blackmailing- which normally she was always quite adept at. But this time, he had resolutely held on. Not giving in- not even a bit. She huffed, irritated. This fever and typhoid was tampering with her persuasion skills.
She heard a louder snore this time, and looked up at him again and then promptly rolled her eyes. He had slumped down in the uncomfortable looking chair. Only his torso was situated in the small chair now- while the rest of him hung down in the air- making him look quite comical, she noted, as another snort of laughter escaped her. She shook her head again. No, this wouldn’t do. He would have to give in. One way or another. She would have to make him.
Feeling a little more awake than she had managed to in the past so many days, and with her goal set firmly in her mind, Khushi yawned loudly- stretching like a cat- feeling the pops in her bones and groaning at the feeling of finally being able to move without having to clutch at something or the other in pain. However, that one small movement had awakened her Mother Hen- as she had known it would, she smiled tenderly. Oh, Arnav. She thought with an imperceptible shake of her head- even as he scrambled up- rubbing his eyes and looking at her, his hair sticking up in every which way as he ran a hand down his tired looking face and got up. “Khushi? Baby, what happened? Are you in... are you in pain, Khush?” He asked, his voice growing more worried and on edge with every word that came out his mouth and she felt something tug in the vicinity of her chest.
She looked up at him, her eyes wide as she shook her head and then patted the bed beside her- and he sighed. Sitting down beside her, his large hand covering her smaller one as he squeezed it lightly, gathering her to himself- his very being exuding a warmth that she hadn’t known till that particular moment that she had been craving. She let her arms circle around his waist, as she buried her nose in his cotton clad chest- inhaling the smell that was exclusively her Arnav. And a small sigh escaped her, as he rested his chin over her head, after dropping a light kiss on her hair, as he tucked her to himself securely. They sat there in silence for what felt like ages to Khushi, and she sighed again. He needed his sleep. And Food too. She had to do something. Anything. And the idea came to her, just as her stomach grumbled loudly, and a small giggle left her, even as she felt a chuckle rumble through his chest.
“Hungry, Khush?” he asked her, pulling away slightly to look down at her, and she smiled up at him- noting how those warm molten chocolate eyes softened in affection- resulting in yet another tug in the vicinity of her heart. But then she frowned. “Arnav...” she whispered, and huffed, as he had started shaking his head even before she said anything. “No. No Khushi. Absolutely not. You’re not moving from here.” He said, sternly, and she looked down- and up at him again- her eyes widened innocently.
It was his turn to huff now. “I said, NO, Khushi.” He said, “And no amount of cajoling is going to make me change my mind.” She shifted into him, hugging him tighter, and burying her face in his chest, her arms tightening around him- and felt him sigh, wearily. Aha! She smirked, before looking up at him, and found him staring at her- amused.
“Please?” She asked him, softly, her eyes pleading. And he shook his head. “Alright. But you’re not walking. And that’s FINAL!” he said. And her brows furrowed in confusion. How would that be-? But he had shifted her to the bed and gotten up- bending down in a fluid motion and scooping her in his arms in one fluid motion. Catching her by surprise.
This time, Khushi’s heart had fluttered, as she held onto his strong shoulders for dear life. Her pale, small hands clutching at his collar, as she buried her face in his neck- her eyes closing, her breath accelerating, as she tried not to think of the fluttering butterflies in her stomach. What was happening to her?
He set her down gently on the kitchen counter of their worker’s suite, that Malhotra Uncle had insisted they shift into. And started rummaging in the shelves for some Maggi. She watched him, as he started telling her about what had happened in the Hotel that day- at his shift. She smiled, as he told her about the Manager catching a waiter and a waitress in the kitchens, making out. She laughed as he told her that it had been the ones she had predicted would end up together- and she in turn told him about how she had beat Malhotra Uncle in Scrabble five times straight when he had been away on his shift. She watched him as he chopped up some vegetables, and plunked them into the Masala water he’d had boiling on the stove, before breaking two massive Maggi cakes and putting them in. She told him to add some Ketchup and he wrinkled his nose, but did as she told just the same.
“Arnav, please Make it extra spicy!” she begged, and he had smiled- that big, toothy lopsided grin of his- as he opened to more packets of Masala and added them in- stirring the almost cooked noodles around, as he kept chatting to her. Khushi watched him, as he quite expertly poured the Maggi into a big Bowl and stuck two forks into it. She looked up at him- and he grinned again- prompting the butterflies in her stomach to flutter all the more wildly. “We’ll share Khush.” He said and she squealed as he scooped her up again, while one of his hands the hot bowl and carried her back to her bedroom laughing and joking all the way, the tired looking Arnav disappearing somewhere.
Khushi shifted slightly, as she put away the bowl on the nightstand and quietly turned to a now snoring Arnav, who was sprawled on the bed beside her, one hand hanging off the bed, as he buried his face in the pillow. She ran a small hand through his hair tenderly- a few tears inexplicably emerging in her eyes as she remembered all she had done for her in the past few days. How would she ever be able to make it up to him? She wondered. The man had actually dragged her back from Death. And had stubbornly held onto her- taking care of every need of hers- doing everything for her. She wiped her tears again as she remembered his splotched crying face from when she had woken up that horrible day.
“Yes, Khushi You’re staying with me. He’d told her, over and over again. He had refused to leave her side even for a minute that first horrid week. Even now, when she got those beastly cramps and pains- feeling as if someone was repeatedly gutting her- he would be beside her, holding her to himself, shushing her, stroking her back- trying to distract her- lessening the pain almost.
She ran her hand through his soft hair, and he sighed in his sleep- unconsciously throwing an arm around her, still being gentle- tender almost- as he hugged her lightly to himself. She lay there, listening to his heart beat steadily- giving her strength- and then, as if suddenly a new glorious light had dawned over her- a realization
struck her. And the astonishing thing about it was, she thought, as she looked up at his peaceful face, it had been coming to her for a while. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when this had started, maybe it had been coming to her since he had dressed her wound back in Sheesh Mahal all those years ago, oh-so-gently, or maybe it had been the moment when he had winked at her and eaten the sweets she had made for him- despite his disease- but it was not new. She smiled, in wonder, as the words rang in her mind and she was struck by how true they were. How right. There was no two ways about it, she smiled, as she caressed his cheek and hugged him again, burying her head in his chest- the steady thrumming of his heart lulling her to slumber. She Loved Arnav.
Khushi sighed, as she looked up and found that they’d reached the office. She stepped outside- the words that she had realized almost a decade back still ringing in her head- and making her weary. Why had she done this? Why had she let that happen between them? Knowing that losing him would mean losing herself? Losing her will to live? She had decided to fix it, yes, but it would be a blow to her already weak heart. She walked up the stairs, almost not acknowledging the greetings of her employees, her mind still on Arnav- her heart still struggling to beat, as it had done since waking up this morning. Still trying to talk herself into being brave. And still failing miserably at it.
She had reached her office in no time, heaving a sigh, she had just pushed it open, when she stopped dead. Feeling utterly frustrated. There he was. Sitting in her chair. Going through the files that housed the accounts and other details of Naivedyam. Her baby. He was frowning as he flipped through pages and picked other files- all labeled Naivedyam- and a suddenly, Khushi felt irritated. What the hell did he think he was doing her? And how dare he look through her Naivedyam Files? He knew that it pissed her off when he interfered with her baby. She had always wanted it to be only hers. Worked at it hard- alone. It was a product of her sweat and blood. Then, he put it away and brought around her pride and joy - a hand carved Renaissance onyx and jade chess set by E. S. Lowe circa 1959. She didn’t like anyone touching them. Then, even as she was about to rebuke him, Arnav moved the pieces around until he had a prominent formation.
And just as she was about to ask him what the fucking hell he thought he was doing, he looked up at her. And she stopped- almost as if struck dumb. Flailing. Trying to think. Even as those molten chocolate eyes held her transfixed. “Do you know what Zugzwang is Khushi?” he asked conversationally to his dumbstruck companion. “Its a German term in chess for “forced to move”. Even as Khushi moved towards him, he smiled. “Since you didn’t want to make a move Khush, I was forced to.” He looked at her straight in the eyes, and pushed her chess set towards her, prominently drawing her eyes towards the moved chess pieces. “Check Mate, darling”.
And Khushi stood there. Still. Unable to move. As those softly, dangerously spoken words echoed in her mind. Check and Mate, indeed.
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