Of Random Things

I realized the other day that I miss reading books. After an engaging conversation with someone about the book I am reading and the ones I would like to read I decided to come here and write.

Book am reading now. Or atleast trying to read, given my history of leaving books by a Russian writer mid way. Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina and War and Peace, are some of the only books I left mid way. And am reading Dr Zhivago now. 

So this person asked me why are you reading if you don't like it. First answer was because I don't like to leave anything incomplete. Second answer was a realization that even though am impatient I love these maddeningly slow long winding tales. Am halfway through this book that has the most complicated character names ever written am pretty sure. 

It takes place during the Russian revolution. A decent doctor who is idealistic, loves his wife and falls badly in love with another whimsical girl. They hardly even have scenes together. I should probably stop writing and go read to know what happens.

Books that I want to read if I was not spending all my time writing, are Bourne series. Yes, I haven't read them. And yes I do know that I should read them. I also need to read the Hunger Games. And  I have a faint distaste because it sounds like one of those grown up serious kind of books, but still I should try and give it a try, The Prophet.

Why am I cribbing about not reading? Because when am spending my evenings writing or reading stuff on my forum about my favourite serial (IPK as you should know by now), which is in a very interesting phase, I don't get the time. That sounds like an excuse. From today there has to come out of my 24hours some reading books time.

Yesterday while on the bus I took out my notebook and started to write a new chapter and missed my bus stop. It was the happiest feeling in the world.

Overall though, I cannot even write because after what seems like very long I have an interesting problem in office. One that my mind concentrates upon. And I was surprised to know that my work caught enough of my attention that my thoughts lingered on it even after am out of office. And to write you need to think only about what you are writing. That is why I hate guests vehemently in this phase of my life. Distractions. Completely disastrous to writing. The state of mind where you are at peace with everything else and then consumed by thoughts is what I need. Right, am only writing on a forum, and all this sounds dramatic, still truth is what it is.

Meanwhile I have joined twitter. Written a hindi poem. Driven a car on my own. And my piano teacher thinks am a highly conscientious student. Also worn ghungroo and danced to my hearts content one day. And Shahrukh Khan came in a song I didn't like, but a scene I love.. people dance around and he and Deepika twirl together in slow motion without taking their eyes off each other.. musafir hun main door ka..deewana hun main dhoop ka..

And back here my headache that has lasted since the past 12 hours has vanished.

arshi SS: Hamesha ~ a heartbeat away, chapter 5

Thank you for reading my first story. I still can't believe that am writing..

This chapter is dedicated to Mehreen who made buaji faint..

Wiwy and ArshiHamesha's comments resulted in the unbuttoning of a waistcoat and my conversation with Indi52 made a seat belt come into the picture. 

Chapter 5

His unrelenting grip on her slender wrist would leave behind a mark that would most probably remain for atleast a few days, considering the fact that the slender arm in question was prone to bruising quite easily. Arnav Singh Raizada, however, did not come to think of that as he hauled Khushi Kumari Gupta across the raizada mansion hall. Khushi took hurried steps to keep up with ASR's long strides.

They had barely made it across the threshold of his room when he banged the door. He back was almost plastered to the door as she uncertainly looked at Arnavji.. Laad governor kahin ke.. What was he angry about now? His face was  still, giving nothing away, but she could read his eyes. There was a storm inside them that she felt herself getting blown into.

"Kya kar rahi thi tum Khushi?" He spoke in a low controlled whisper, law clenched, face insert and eyes narrowed.

"Hum toh bas nanheji ko..." .. He moved like lightening pinning her to the door. A hand on either side of her, barely touching her, holding her his prisoner. The abrupt movement had left her dazed and she paused mid sentence. For an infinite exquisite moment they stood in silence, an image painted on a canvas. Perfectly carved muscles clearly visible on his exposed forearms. Her heaving breath adding vitality to the seemingly still canvas. In each stroke of the picture there was movement, for in the silence two eyes were doing all the talking.

"What the? Naheji? So you give nicknames to everyone you meet Miss Khushi Kumari Gupta?". His tone was meant to hurt. It did exactly what it was meant to do.  

Khushi felt something crumble inside her. Why did he have to be hurtful devi maiyya? And why do I care about his words? She tried to turn towards the door, but he barred her way. His arms entrapping her. His eyes ensnaring her further.

"We have not finished talking", his lethal voice echoed in the room.

"Choriye humein... Aapko kya farak parta hain? I can use any name for any person I want.. Why does it matter to you?" . She lashed out. An angry cornered kitten.

She could read a faint flicker of hesitation in his tumultuous eyes. Taking advantage of which she moved his arm away, opened the door and rushed out, tripping on her way.

ASR was left fuming. Khushi was right.. Why does it matter what she said? He paced around the room.

Outside the wind had also picked pace. A wild uncontrollable storm had arrived. The satin curtains on the french window leading to the poolside flew with such force that the danger o the curtain rods giving way.

His mind subconsciously registered the menacing weather, but most of him was still swimming in thoughts of a pair of stormy eyes.. Aapko kya farak parta hai?.. She had demanded to know..

He was asking himself the same question and none of the answers that came to him were good enough, frustrated, the last semblance of control snapping, with sharp disjointed action, he hastily unbuttoned his jet black waistcoat. In one fluid movement he was out of it and had flung the waistcoat on his bed.

A low rumble of thunder and a blinding flash of lightening brought him to the present.  He whirled around and stared outside. The sky had darkened, a torrential downpour could not be far behind.

Dammit! Had Khushi safely reached home? No.. There was not enough time... He grabbed his blackberry and keys and sprinted to his SUV. Not wasting a single precious minute he select her number from the last dialed list. The SUV key chain dangled from his thumb as he used the same hand to bring the phone close to his ears.

He knew with certainty she would not pick up. With the same certainty he knew he would get to her. He threw open the car door, revved the engine and pulled out of Shantivan gates just as the first large raindrops splashed across the windshield.

His desperation had reached an unbearable high. At the first red light, he hit his hist hard across the steering wheel and gulped down the windstorm inside him, in an attempt to think rationally.

The skies had opened up. A deluge was upon unsuspecting people and Khushi was still not picking her phone. He drove madly through the empty streets. At each sharp turn the white SUV veered dangerously.

Within minutes darkness seemed to engulf the streets of Delhi. In it the car tyres screeched loudly as the car skidded to a halt next to a drenched shivering girl.


****

Khushi knew it was him with as much certainty as she knew he would come and get her. The auto drivers she had hailed to try to get back home had all refused on account of the weather. She felt a sad helplessness. She missed the scooter she was used to borrowing in Lucknow.

"One takes such a lot of things for granted", she thought woefully. But, Khushi hardly took anything for granted, really. Babuji had been the kindest father and amma and jiji the most loving family possible. Even buaji loved her dearly. Every single day, in the ways Khushi knew, she tried to bring happiness to their lives.

She knew she was lucky to have them. But she also knew it would not be babuji who would come to take her home today. Amma, buaji, jiji would not rescue her from the storm. For one minute she indulged in the possibility of buaji arriving on a scooter shouting "aree sankadevi".. She allowed herself to smile, then immediately felt tears pooling in her eyes.

What seemed like ages ago, amma had once told her and jiji that if the first drop of rain fell on one's cheek then that meant the girl's would soon marry a man who loved them forever.. Hamesha.. Khushi had spent all monsoon running in the gomti sadan open courtyard, giggling loudly, willing the ran drops to fall on her cheek.

When the first water droplet had made its way down her cheek she had remembered this long forgotten game. But now, not one single drop, but a millions drops had succeeded in  drenching her completely and Arnavji's car had just stopped before her. He had opened his door and was walking towards her.

"Khushi tum thik ho?", he asked in voice that made her dejected insides melt and happily tip toe back up in excitement.

"Gari mein baitho". His tone was clipped, yet there was an elusive something that made Khushi's damp spirits start to enthusiastically shake away the cold.

He was already seated when she slid into the seat next to him. Out of habit she pulled at the seat belt, not at all expecting it to come as willingly to her as it did. It did come and she quickly buckled up. A satisfying delighted click echoed in the car.

She chanced a look at the scary laad governor who was staring straight ahead. He had come to her. She was no longer getting soaked in the rain, but was comfortably sitting in the shelter of his car. She would soon be on her way home. Arnavji would ensure she got home.

Suddenly, she felt absolutely elated and a big smile pushed away the troubled clouds and shone brightly on her still wet face.

"What?" Arnavji turned to her and asked distractedly. His hair looked darker, shinier as it must have gotten damp and he must have run his fingers through it. Tousled.. That was how his hair looked.. A hard to curb desire rose within Khushi.. She wanted to smooth our his hair.

She felt like laughing at the insane thought, but sobered down immediately. Laad governor was always quite scary in this car... first he would put on her seatblet, then drive fast and the next thing you know Khushi Kumari Gupta would be left standing in the middle of the road.

Ha! This time she had put on her seatbelt so he could do nothing about it.. Wait.. Not giving herself a chance to think further she leaned towards him. Her face within inches of his. Her hand shot up, brushing his nose, to pull his seat belt with as much force as she could muster. Firmly she tugged and said a little prayer to her dearest devi maiyya, that the seat belt would actually get fastened in the first try. 

Her prayer was answered.  His seat belt was in place, she stayed hovering over him, unable to move away. Specially not when the anger had vanished from his face and was replaced with something more dangerous. He looked amused, his lips curving upwards. Khushi could see her reflection in his sparkling eyes.

She gulped and withdrew. A deafening sound in her ears... dhak dhak dhak..

"So, you have learnt a few things from me, after all". His eyes were on the road as the SUV glided along the empty street.

Dhak dhak dhak.. Hey devi maiyya.. What had she done just now? Put Arnavji's seatbelt for him?.. Dhak dhak dhak..

All too soon the car halted before buaji's house. This time he leaned towards her and swung open the door. She took a deep breath and immediately felt hopelessly breathless. The essence of this laad governor's infuriating smile was in the air. She was lightheaded.

"Ghar nai jaogi Khushi? Or do you want to come home with me?" definitely a smirk.. Dhak dhak dhak.. He must be able to hear her heart, it was surely to loud.. She might have to skip dinner as well.. This acidity was too much.. She scrambled out of the car and intentionally banged the door.

Even before she had time to turn, the rakshas was speeding away. That increasingly light headed rebellions part of her wished fervently she was still sitting in the car next to him.


****


ASR was in a good mood as he entered Shantivan. 

"Aa..achoo..". Before he knew it, di had descended upon him. "Chote you are drenched. You will catch a cold. Jao kapre badalo. Why don't you take care of yourself chote? You need a wife."

He rolled his eyes. "Di even if you didn't tell me I would still change into dry clothes , you know? Aapko toh aadat hai thore drame ki exactly like khu..". He almost bit his tongue.

Luckily his di's phone had started to ring and she had not noticed the "khu".. If her smile was anything to go by, it must be jeejaji who had called.


Back in his room ASR quickly changed into a comfortable blue and white v-necked sweatshirt. Using a warm white towel, rubbed his hear vigorously as he sat down with in laptop in the poolside.

ASR was still happy. Amar had sent him a whole mailbox full of emails he had to start going through. He was sure he would get through them in no time. Competency was something that he didn't have to try too hard to be good at. He was Arnav Singh Raizada, after all..

He had just finished reading the first line of the very first email when a crunching sound distracted him.

NK stood with a colorful packet of some unhealthy too salty fried snacks, with a characteristically bemused looking Aakash close behind.

"Naughty naughty Nanav.. Mere bhai.. Tum shaadi kar re ho? .. Wo bhi Kushiji se? sweet sweet Khushi se?"

"What the.. Nk, I am not getting married". ASR went back to his email.

"Bhai you didn't tell me you are marrying Khushiji. Congratulations bhai.. Par.. Par aap toh shaadi karna hi nai chahte the.. In fact aap toh shaadi mein believe hi nai karte..", continued Aakash, apparently still quite perplexed by what his mother had just told him and NK bhai.

"Aakash didn't you hear? I am not marrying khushi". ASR steadily denied.

"Phir toh sab budhiya hai nannav". NK happily stuffed his mouth with a handful of chips and munched noisily much to ASR's irritation.

"NK bhai, budhiya nahi.. Badhiya", Aakash helpfully corrected his cousin. "But why is it good?"

"Because Khushi is so pretty.. Itni pretty Khushiji is khadoos nannav ke sath.. No no Akash.. Khushiji toh.. Cheeni hai and Nannav.. Nannav toh diabetic hai". Warming upto his them, tugging at his jacket collar NK continued. "Now main.. NK.. NK toh thanda thanda cool cool hai.. So Khushiji and me.."

ASR had had enough. "Enough NK.. You don't need to think about Khushi.."

"Par kyu nannav? Kyunki mamiji thik bol rahi thi? Tell..tell.. Jhooth bole toh kawa daate..and look okay.. Jab pyar kiya toh marna kya... and jo mar gaya samajho ghar gaya."

Extremely pleased with his little impromptu speech on love he firmly took hold of Aakash by his shoulder and steered him out of the poolside.

Asr was left along, struggling to decide between getting angry at NK or being extremely amused.


His phone started to vibrate.. A familiar number flashed.. He received the call. 

"Bhaiyaji? aa. achoo"..  Her clear voice came from the other side. Now what was she upto?

"Will you send us our dresses on time or not? Dekhiye aise hi I can't eat these days, with all this dhak dhak I will surely loose weight, so better make my lehenga an inch tighter on the waist. Bhaiyaji are you writing all this down? Ek inch kam. Jiji ka lehenga has to be the best and mine too. Humein dance bhi toh karna hai. Do you think laad givernor jaise logo ko dance karna aata hoga? Lo.. Hum bhi paglait hain how will you know. Aap bas lehenge sahi size ka banayiye.."

"Khushi have you gone mad?", he finally had to cut it.

"Arnavji aap darji ke paas kya kare rahe hain? Do you have to get a suit stitched too?  And why are you answering his phone? Aap ajeeb hain..", replied the clueless girl.

"Main.. Main ajeeb hoon.. Aur yeh tum keh ri ho? Look at the number you have dialled. And Khushi.. Goodnight".

He cut the call and shut his macbook. There was no way he was getting any work done tonight. But the feeling in him was still the same.. happiness was what he felt, thanks to a crazy scatterbrain of a beautiful girl... Khushi..

****

Bangles with beautiful meenakari work, heavy kundan necklaces and dazzling diamonds laden rings were spread out. The two sons of the Raizada house were about to get married. This was only the beginning of the preparations. There was lots left to do. For now, the ladies of in Shantivan were busy swooning over the jewelry sets, when Shyam walked in.

Anjali's face lit up. A doting expression rested on it as she limped across to her smiling husband. Her Shyamji was finally home. Nani and mami looked upon the couple affectionately.

"Rani sahiba .. Ab toh hum aa gaye hain.. Will you tell me what have you been hinting about on the phone that has made you this happy?". Shyam looked intently at his wife, a smile plastered to his face. 

"Aap kaise hain? You have grown thin.. Why don't you eat properly when you are alone? Humein kuch nahin pata..after the weddings I will accompany you on every  trip. Nani aap keh dijiye inhe.." Anjali turned to her nani. Her face still shining.

"Shadi?" Shyam's eyes had narrowed.

"Yes jeejaji Akash and nannav ki barbadi.. Sorry sorry.. I mean shaadi" NK approached his brother-in-law.

"Damaadji ab ready hui jayiye.. Aur phatee saree aur khoon bhari taang ke liye giftiya dene khatir.. Bhat will you gibj.. Tellj pileejh?" Mamiji chimed in.

(Get ready.. To buy a gift for khoon bhari taang and phatee saree.. What are going to give them? Tell me please?)

Shyam's eyes turned glassy, almost ready to pop out of his head. His mind deciphered the gist..his saale saab was about to marry Khushi.. Shyam had to think fast!

****

Early next  morning there was pandemonium in Gupta house, much more than usual, because not just the usual bustling Khushi was adding to the chaos, but buaji and amma were also in a frenzy.

"Hai re nand kisore.. Titiliya eeha se nashta hatai diyo.. Ka pata kab oo raijada logan eehan aa jayee". Buaji yelled loudly as she plopped onto the old sofa. It swayed dangerously under the sudden weight.

(Titliya.. Take this food from here.. Who knows when the raizada family might show up here.)

A red cloth was tightly bound around her head. She had a splitting headache.

"Payaliyaaa taiyyar hui ki nahi? Hai re nand kisssooree..". Her niece was getting married. For a second her brows came together in worry. Aakash bitwa's family was very rich and they had not even called once to confirm the marriage. But, as soon as the worry entered her mind she brushed it away. Her Payaliya was a lovely girl. Those raizada's would be lucky to have her.

Khushi zoomed past her buaji, brush in hand, mouth foaming with toothpaste.. "Move move buaji.. I have to get ready. And I will not have breakfast, thik hai?"

Madhumatiji was shocked.. Was sanakadevi all right? No breakfast.. She had not had dinner either..in fact come to think of it she had barely touched her breakfast yesterday..

"Jiji come quickly. Phone from Shantivan". Garima, her sister-in-law, was frantically beckoning her.

Madhumatiji rushed to the dusty black phone, spent a few seconds untangling the wire of the handset, realized it was a lost battle, so bent low to reach the earpiece and breathlessly greeted whoever was on the phone.

Aakash bitwa's grandmother's voice reached her. They were on their way to Gupta house. In fact, one car was almost there. She heard the old lady say.. "We would like Payal bitiyas hand for Aakash and Khushi bitiya's hand for chote.. Humara matlab Arnav ke liye."

Buaji could not believe her ears. ..Her sanakadevi marry the raizada boy.. She could vaguely hear the word love on the phone.. Everything was swimming before her eyes..nand kisore.. Her sankadevi and that khadoos Arnav bitwa were in love.. The phone dropped from her hand.. 

She swayed dangerously.. Her vision blurred.. then darkness..


Madhumatiji was in the process of fainting when NK walked in with a decorated silver plate full of dry fruits. He jumped to catch the falling old heavy lady.

Garima bustled around worried. She had picked a steel glass from the dinig table and sprinkled water on her unconscious sister-in-law.. "jiji.. Aap thik hai? What happened to you?"

Madhumatiji hazily heard Garima's anxious voice. She blinked her eyes. As her vision started to clear, she saw an unknown face next to her. The beautiful fair boy was kneeling towards her.. he was struggling.. Madhumatiji erupted into peals of laughter.. "Hai re nand kisore.. Babua are you trying to pick me up?"


******

Fan fiction

Haven't written something for a while here, feels strange..

Note to self - Come here more often.

So what am I writing about today? Fan fiction. (On 2nd thoughts this line is redundant, since that is the title of the post). So if a writer has already published everything relevant, are fanfics redundant?

Fan fiction, or fanfiction (often abbreviated as fan fic, fanfic, or simply fic), is a broadly defined fan labor term for stories about characters or settings written by fans of the original work, rather than by the original creator.
-wikipedia

That is a singularly boring description for a kind of writing I have been enthralled with, over the last few years, as I have come to know of it.

When you read, the characters come alive in your head. When you watch, you want to know more. Your heart wants its favourite pair to openly admit to being in love. Your mind wants to know what if. A kiss has to be complete. A story can never be left incomplete. If someone dies, you want to know how others cope up. If someone is young, you want to know what happens when they grow up.

The writer had a tale with a starting and end. He breathed life into the characters as he penned them down or enacted them out. You on the other hand are equally invested not simply in the story, but in the world, in its people. And you don't merely observe, you are proactive to extend the world as you imagine it must be.

Fan fiction is any type of writing by a fan of the original work. There is no fixed rule I think. So it could be fan fiction when only the names are same. The story could also start off as same and branch off later. Or it could be a whole parallel universe with no connection what so ever. 

Isn't it nice when someone who does not want the experience to end, obsesses over it, wishes there was more, with all the love in their heart take it upon themselves to write something to assuage these feelings and without the motive of gain (expect perhaps appreciation) shares it freely with fellow fans.

They can write on forums, blogs or sites dedicated entirely to this. It can be a one shot (OS) where you talk of a single thing. A scene where Ron's mother talked to Hermione. It could be a short story (SS). What happends when Renesme grows up and Jacob realizes it is time to fall in love. Or an FF. About Arnav and Khushi and their ajeeb love story.

The first ever Fanfiction I read was about James and Lily Potter. It was beautiful. I fell in love with them. In the book there was a faint reference to their patronus (a magical mascot like creasture that chases away sad soul sucking awful beings) being complementary. A stag and a doe. Also one tiny flashback where Harry Potter gets a glimpse of his arrogant extremely handsome brilliant mischvious father as he was as a teenager, completely head over heels for Harry's beautiful intelligent elegant teenager mother. And on this slight basis we get a lovely 20 chapter story from a fan.

I have read fanfiction on Harry Potter, Twilight, Game of Thrones, Battlestar Galactica and Iss Pyaar Ko Kya Naam Doon. My preference is when the story stays close to the actual. If you haven't read what fans write about the books/shows you love, try it. You'd be pleasantly surprised.

Sometimes giggle worthy, some that make me cringe. Lots of angsty ones. I tend to like the lighter livelier ones. I find it safe to say there is most probably a writer out there you writes stories just your way, and in case you don't find exactly what you imagined maybe it is time to start writing something of your own.

A newspaper article once insinuated that this kind of writing was for frustrated women who wanted to read much more than just a kiss. I won't even bother deeming that with a response. There are such stories out there. Usually labelled Mature (NC 17).  Even those are quite fun actually.

But, I also know, that I have learnt scores of new words reading such stories. One of my favourite writers says she might stop writing fanfiction and journey into regular fiction and that has me worried and excited. The people I know, who write such stories, are some of the wisest, fun and inspiring people I know. I have felt happy and heard my heart sing. I even started writing, a thing I gave up a long time ago, even before actually starting.

There is a section on my blog which has a title fan fiction. My muse Arnav and Khushi. And am an extremely proud reader, writer and evangelist of Fan Fiction.

arshi SS: Hamesha ~ a heartbeat away, chapter 4

This chapter is dedicated to arhi_crazy who was giddy with happiness after reading the previous chapter. 

I have spent a crazy day with my friends celebrating an unforgettable birthday of a man turning 30. Now back to my world of Arnav and Khushi.

Chapter 4

Khushi Kumari Gupta blinked as she placed a tiny golden stone bindi between her lovely arched eyebrows. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. A thin fair girl in a pink and golden exquisite crepe saree stared back at her. Her hair was left open and cascaded in alluring waves around  her shoulders. A pair of intricately designed kundan earrings dangled from her ears. She was ready to meet Arnav Singh Raizada.

The doorbell rang and she rushed to open the door. Mohanji, the driver from Shantivan, held out an elegant white envelope with the ASR initial's embossed on it. "Arnavji has sent this for you, Khushiji", he explained and withdrew.

Butterflies had started to flutter in her stomach. They were those yellow ones with their big fairy like wings that she saw in buaji's courtyard on a sunny day... Yes, definitely, those big butterflies were what caused pandemonium in her stomach. They must have decided to leave the courtyard and use her stomach as their playground...

Arnavji had sent her a letter. She would not risk opening it in the hall. What if someone came? Hiding the envelope under her aanchal she ran into her room and locked the door. Then slowly pulled out the envelope and placed it on the desk before devi maiyya.

She was still staring at the envelope as if her very life depended on what was inside it when her phone started ringing. She knew it could only be one person calling her. "Halo".

"Khushi I sent you a letter". His familiar voice came from the other end. The butterflies in her stomach seemed to have fainted and now there was a hollow left where they had been fluttering before.  "My handwriting is awful, but the letter is specially for you. Khologi nahi?", came his husky whisper. The timbre in his voice seemed to blow softly in her ears. She shivered.

Carefully she ripped open the covering and drew out the neatly folded white sheet of paper. A scribble greeted her eyes. She concentrated and eagerly read.

"What the! If I have to talk to you I will call you or come meet you, not write a stupid letter, samjhi tum? Sapne dekhna band karo Miss Khushi Kumari Gupta. And return the expensive designer saree you are wearing to AR office. Now!"



She sat up in bed, throwing away her purple jaipuri chadar. "Wo laad governor... Why did she always have to dream about him, devi maiyya?"

She spent the rest of the day convincing herself there was no reason to go to Shantivan. In fact, she spent the next few days trying to not give herself any reason to go there. It was much tougher, to resist the urge to visit Shantivan than what would be normal. She wondered why and tried hard not to let the answer reach her.

****

In Shantivan, a week later, ASR wandered near the poolside, lost in thought. It was a still morning.  There was an oppressive heat in the air that made him even more restless. His green watering can was full to the brim and heavy. He showered water over the white chameli flowers. The water droplets causing the branches to shake, sending a whiff of sweet fragrance his way.

A soft expression entered his eyes and a slow smile appeared on his clean shaven face. It was too hot for even the slightest stubble, which is why even though it was a Sunday and he did not plan to go to AR he had made sure his razor had delivered the smoothest shave possible.

His thoughts raced back to the time he had looked at her draping the saree. How expertly her fingers had moved and how much her mouth had moved, till she had noticed him looking.  He had been watering his plants that day just like he was today.

Frustrated with himself, he put aside the watering can. Why did everything remind him of her? How could this crazy girl have this hold over him.. The girl who had kept falling in his arms a countless times, who took his breath... No, that was a dangerous line of thought. He tried to get a grip over himself, tried to think about things he did not like about her. Yes, that would work. How she chattered endlessly... how she messed things up.. how she would talk with her lips quivering... how her eyes widened..

He gave up trying to not think about her. Instead resolutely moved on to sharply clip away some dry leaves from the rose plant. It was Sunday, he could spend extra time here with his plants. Sunday.. as the shears snipped, his mind went to the Sunday afternoon in AR. Things had escalated alarmingly. Khushi Kumari Gupta.. A voice in him sighed.. How did she manage to make him time and time again lose control...

That morning in the storeroom, with her eyes blazing, she had said she would return to Lucknow. He had been convinced he would not see her again and then... she had appeared before him. Khushi.. in his own cupboard. Unbelievable.. He had to resist hard to stop himself from opening his closet this very instant and wishing to see those big beautiful eyes again. Where was she, dammit? The week had gone by and she had not come. He threw down the shears and picked up a little trowel.

His long, almost artistic looking fingers started to work on transferring earth into the new flower pot. He had asked Om Prakash to bring him a flowering carnation plant. Bright yellow flowers... Again his mind conjured up a vision.. A deep instinct within him told him she might like these flowers...

ASR stood up in irritation. Khushi again.. He was restless. Had been for quite a few days now. And there was only one solution to the quandary he found himself sinking in. He did not wait to analyze the emotion further.

Dusting his hands and without wasting time, he picked his phone from where it had been lying on the glass coffee table. His lean fingers made the necessary selections and within seconds he could hear her phone ringing.

He was almost taken aback by the sudden onslaught of intense emotion that hit him full force. ASR had always accepted life head on.  And at precisely that instant, as he listened to her phone ring, he knew his feelings had a name. He was missing her. Missing her.. terribly. Hell.. Missing as a word felt grossly inadequate.. He yearned to hear her voice.. Every thought, conscious or otherwise, in him needed her smiling face in front of him. Surely no one word could capture all that he felt. And why did he feel all that he seemed to feel? He needed her in front of him.. now..


****


The girl herself was busy, deep in conversation with her dearest friend. Khushi had tried hard to keep herself engaged in the frenzy at home. But, random words, signs, any and everything reminded her of the of the rakshas she desperately tried to ignore.

Only, it was becoming more and more difficult to think of him as a rakshas. Specially when jiji had said that Arnavji had called her and even apologized for being the reason her marriage had not taken place. That was certainly not a very rakshas like thing to do... Then there was his smile of victory, full of teasing and things she could not give a name too, that caused hre stomach to burst into a flip flop marathon. Hardly a memory one associates with a rakshas.

"devi maiyya what is happening to me?" she muttered, woebegone.

Buaji had been initially flabbergast to hear her Payaliya was expecting a proposal from Aakashji's family. Her chant of hai re nand kisore knew no end in sight. And just as suddenly she had burst into a giddying excitement. Amma and buaji were busy preparing gujiya, mixture, namkeen, besan ke ladoo and even more dishes. All in preparation of the much awaited visit from Shantivan. So much food in the house and Khushi had lost all her appetite. That itself made her sad.

Everyones's dear Payaliya's laughter rang through the Gupta house as the older women kept redirecting Happyji to rearrange the living room furniture. Khushi had joined in and added to all the excitement. Her favourite part of the week was when she had taken out buaji's old tape recorder and found the hum aapke hain kaun cassette. She had played the "mai ni mai" song and made everybody dance. "lekin devi maiyya why do I feel kuch garbar hai?".. Through all this, in her heart, had been anxiety. A gnawing persistent unease. 
So she had finally decided to come to devi maiyya.

She was sitting under the cool shade of the ber tree in the mandir compound. Her eyes searched for a man in a black suit talking on the phone. He was not here today. "Why am I searching for him?". She softly hummed the lines of the song.

"mai ii ni mai munder pe tere bol raha hai kaga.."

Her phone rang. Arnavji.. Immediately her hand went to answer the call. She stopped herself sternly. No, he had called to talk to jiji, but not bothered to talk to her. He could have atleast asked jiji to hand over the phone to her and updated her on mamiji's current mood.


The phone stopped ringing. She felt like bursting into tears. "I should have picked up the pphone devi maiyya... hum bhi na bilkul paglait hai".

Chal maiyya ke bhavan.. gaily called out her phone again. This time she could no longer control the craving.. she no longer wanted to control the craving.. "Halo".

"Khushi, can't you pick up your phone? It rang forever. Kaha thi tum?". Came a familiar breathless voice from the other end. The voice she had been longing to hear of the man who was in her thought every second.

"aapko isse kya? I don't need to tell you anything. And it was your phone which is why I didn't pick up, samjhe aap?"

And she cut the call. Every nerve, every sinew suddenly felt alive. A tiny part of her brain was admonishing her.. There was no need to be this rude to him.. But, most of her just felt exhilerated at having heard his voice again.

She stared at her phone, which was held tightly by both her hands, and continued to hum. A smile had replaced the frown from earlier as she continued her song...

"jogan ho gayi teri dulari man jogi san laga.."

****

"What the! How dare she cut my call? ". ASR was about to redial when he heard di and nani talking.

"Anjali bitiya humka laagat hai it is time we spoke to Payal bitiya's buaji."

"Ha yehi thik rahega nani. Aakash will be so happy."

He turned in time to witness the arrival of a third woman. "yes yes saasuma. Aakash bitwa and Arnav bitwa.. Duno ke baat karike pari."

Manorma Raizada had a smug expression on her face. She had no idea that her sasuma was already more than happy to see the eldest son of the house settle down with a sweet jilebi loving girl. Instead, Manorma had done all in her power to try and get sasuma to agree to the marriage. From pretending to skip her lunch and fast in anger to endlessly praising Khushi, she had tried her best to get the eldest member of the house to approve of the wedding.

Deviyani Raizada, though highly entertained with this new affable avtaar of her usually lazy and pretty much self-obsessed bahuria, had finally pretended to give in to her coaxing.

So, here stood Manorma, as if she had accomplished a great feat. "Arnav bitwa hum saasuma ke samjhaiye diye hai. Eberybody yes bolat hai phatee saree ke is ghar ma entary ke liye. Aur ghar ma dui dui shaadi ma helipya khatir who eej comingj? Gas? Gas karo? Choro hum hi batai det hain. Aur kaun, humaar NK babua. Hello hi bye bye. Saasuma, Anjali eeha khare khare kucho naahi hoga.. Jewellaryj, sareej, too much kaam hain Hello hi bye bye."

(I have explained it all saasuma. Everyone has agreed to phatee saree's entry into this house. And in a house where two weddings are happening guess who is coming to help? Guess? Leave it.. I'll tell you. My NK babua. Hello hi bye bye. Saasuma, Anjali nothing will get done if we stand ehre. Jewellery, saree..there is too much work..)

Like a whirlwind she disappeared from the poolside leaving behind two happy women and one extremely disgruntled young man. Nani followed her out, but Anjali was not as lucky.

"What the? Di what is happening?". The past week ASR had been so wrapped in the thoughts of a certain girl that he had not paid any further attention to the repercussions of his declaration in front of mamiji.

"Chote what should I do, tum bolo? Mamiji ko tum jante ho. She is so excited. Now if you cancel, what if she says no to Akash as well? Ab tum soch lo. Okay I have lots of work. Both my brothers are getting married". Anjali could no longer contain her smile. "Uff.. Being an older sister in a household with weddings is very tiring. Main tumhare jeejaji ko phone lagati.. I will tell him to come help out".

Just as ASR opened his mouth all ready to object, Aakash came tripping through the french window into the poolside. "bhai time to leave. Let's run. If we delay a second longer we will surely be stuck with him. He is here."

****

Just then with a singularly lost air about her Khushi walked in through the gates of Shantivan. So lost was she in her reverie that she did not notice Om Prakash .

There were signs of a storm brewing. The sky was overcast with dark clouds and a gale seemed on its way. Khushi's green dupatta fluttered in the wind giving the impression of desperately seeking out for someone. Maybe it was doing exactly that... With each gust of wind it would blow upwards, not reach whoever it was that the dupatta longed for and finally float down heartbroken.

"namaste Khushiji. Hum bahar se bisleri botal laane ja rahe hai. Aapko kuch chahiye? Aap bahut din se aayi nahi."

(I am going out to bring bottled water. Do you want something? Didn't see you here since long?)

Snapping out of her trance, with a small smile, khushi shook her head. "Nai, I don't want anything. And why should I come here? I don't come here Om Prakashiji..".

A little confused by her reply, Om Prakash decided this was Khushiji and a little confusion was normal with her. He liked Khushiji. Things got exciting when she came to Shantivan and usually Arnav bhaiya would be so busy yelling at Khushiji that he overlooked Om Prakash's mistakes. He secretly hoped they would marry. Yes.. he had heard all the ladies of the house discuss their marriage. Mamiji had said that Arnav bhaiya loved Khushiji.. Om Prakash beamed at the thought. Khushiji made the best jilebis ever... Shaking his head at all that he was thinking, he left for his errand.

The oblivious girl on the other hand was as usual talking out loud, "Hey devi maiiya. Hum toh ghar ja rahe the, then how did I reach here? Par now that I am here I should go inside and atleast meet everyone. I have to also reconcile with lakshmiji. Cahlo aapko laakh laakh shukriya that you brought me here. Thank you."

The smile which had not made a regular appearance on her face in the last few days, specially when she was alone, was now firmly back. She felt vaguely surprised at how her spirits had lifted as soon as she had decided to go ahead and enter the house. His house.. No.. She was not thinking about him.. Why should she.. She was only..

She stopped mid thought as she saw some disturbance behind the big bushy anaar tree. She cautiously edged forward and was startled to see a man she had never seen before jump out from behind the tree. He wore a bright yellow jacket and had black glasses covering his eyes.

The sight was stranger since he carried a squirming Lakshmiji in his arms. With a wide grin he declared loudly, "main tumhe chura raha hoon".

Khushiji's eyebrow shot right up to her hairline in alarm.."chor chor..", she yelled as loud as she could. Devi maiyya a thief in broad daylight in Shantivan grounds.. Dili was such an unpredictable place. One never knew what might happen here.

The man looked around, spotted her,  and then muttered some nonsense.. "India .. Is country mein chor bina dare apne aap ko aanounce karta hai". He edged closer towards Khushi." Beautiful chor."

Khushi continued to scream, now convinced that a madman had entered Shantivan. "Chor chor.."

Extremely relieved she saw Aakashji and Arnavji dash out of the house.

ASR came to an abrupt halt. Not having seen her since what felt like ages to his senses, and finally finding her right there in front of him, was an assault on his senses. He needed some time to simply drink her presence in.

Aakash, however, not handicapped by such obscuring of judgment by matters of the heart, was better equipped to deal with the peculiar situation that seemed to be unfolding before him.

"NK bhai what are you doing with lakshmiji?". This was no stranger. This man was their cousin, NK.

"Main ise chura raha tha.. See..", replied a happily smiling NK.

"Chura?", Aakash knew his cousin well enough to expect the unexpected where NK was concerned, but really, stealing a goat seemed too far fetched even by NK bhai's standards.

Khushi was still caught up in the rush of the glory of having single handedly catching a thief. "subah subah chori.. A thief.. The audacity.."

"khushiji one minute. NK bhai what do you mean by chura raha tha?"

"chura.. Mera matlab ..rescue.. From those bushes..", patiently explained NK.

"NK bhai.. Chura nai.. Chhura.."

With a sheepish grin NK caught hold of his ear and took out his tongue, nodding vigorously. "that's right. "

Aakash had expected such weirdness to accompany NK's entrance, no wonder he had rushed to ASR. Both were on their way out to spare themselves from having to bear their wacko cousin's company, when they had rushed out hearing Khushiji yell. Strange that bhai had run as if possessed hearing Khushiji scream. Oh right.. Why did she scream?

He turned his attention to Khushiji who was looking indignantly in NK's direction. "Why were you shouting Khushiji?", he curiously asked.

Khushi grabbed the opportunity provided and enthusiastically launched into an explanation. "He said he is a thief", she exaggerated.

"Main nahin..you. You were calling yourself chor... and chor matlab thief hai na Aakash ?", NK responded, not to be outdone.

"Main chor?". Khushi couldn't believe her ears. Who did this man think he was?

ASR had finally managed to wretch away his concentration from a certain maddening girl who was bewitching in her craziness. He felt the laughter bubbling inside. Khushi Kumari Gupta  and NK, apparently now he knew two people whose antics never failed to amuse. But, he judged rightfully that when these two were involved the argument might go on for a long time, and so decided to intervene.

"Bahut ho gaya ye shor. Stop it you too. Khushi this is our cousin NK. And NK this Khushi, Aakash's would be wife's sister."

"Maee", Lakshmiji, still in NK's arms was feeling a bit left out of the conversation and decided to leap over to Khushi.  Khushi put out her arms and greeted Lakshimiji like a long lost friend.

Really, what an ajeeb girl Khushi was and why couldn't he stop thinking about her, ASR mused as he saw Khushi break into a bright smile.

He felt himself get engulfed in a bear hug as NK descended upon him. "Nannav mere bhai". Some thing never change. That irritating silly nickname.. For one single precious second ASR was transported back to the garden where three boys had run all summer evenings long. Carefree... No, things did change. Always. 

ASR acknowledged the hug as best as he could while Khushi watched the stranger give Arnavji a hug. Arnavji's cousin was all smiles. He also had a nickname for the laad governnor.. Nannav.. Khushi felt like giggling. She found herself warming upto the man who had directed his attention towards her now. With alacrity she extended her hand towards him.

ASR meant to leave. But even as he turned to go, he couldn't stop himself from looking back for one last glimpse of her. So many days of not seeing her. He saw the laughter, her ease  and their excited handshake.

Something boiled inside his chest while some more things felt a little broken and hurt. Dammit, here he had been worried sick about her and she? She had absolutely no idea. He missed her and she had not even picked up the phone initially. And then cut his call.

He strode towards her. A dangerous glint in his focused eyes. Grabbing her hand he jerked her close, oblivious of Aakash and NK's astonished expressions. Her lithe frame came to him, unresisting. "Mere sath chalo. Now..", was all he said as he walked away with her.

***