133. Os Series: Tryst in the Cards

1OS 1.    A Midnight Rescue

Section 1

ASR parked his car in the humongous parking lot of the wedding reception venue and exited his vehicle, slamming the door behind him and waving aside the valet. It had been a long day and unfortunately, it wasn’t over yet.

He looked at the time on his phone. He sighed. It was late, almost midnight. If he didn’t have to pick Di and the others from this madhouse, he would have been fast asleep in his bed, his dreams filled with novel ideas to increase his billions, expand his business and crush his competitors under his feet.

He grit his teeth and marched in to the building, traversing many corridors before reaching the huge main hall, his disinterested eyes looking at the hundreds of gaudily dressed ladies and girls flitting about the venue, their loud laughter hurting his ears.

 What wouldn’t he give for a cup of tea and a pill for headache!

Men in formal clothes stood like pillars, like islands with drinks in their hands as their womenfolk eddied around them like the tide.

 His sharp eyes scanned the crowd to locate his Di, Nani and Mami.

“Chotey,” Anjali called.

He turned to look at her with unhidden relief.

“Shall we leave now?” ASR asked, the question more an order than a suggestion.

But Anjali was ASR’s sister. “No, Chotey,” she smiled. “We need to stay for a while longer. Nani is talking to Madhumatiji and Garimaji, her friends.”

ASR frowned. “Can’t she talk to them on the phone?” he asked shortly.

Anjali laughed. “No, she wants to talk to them in person. Woh kya he, Chotey, they don’t live in Delhi. They are on a visit from...”

Mami cut in. “Anjali bitiyya, did you tell hamre Arnav bitwaa about Madhumatiji’s niece?”

Anjali winced. She had been planning to sweeten the pill with her pouts and cajolery. Now the cat was out of the bag.

ASR’s face became colder than ever. He looked at Anjali with penetrating eyes.

“Chotey, Nani was thinking...” Anjali began, her trepidation clear in her voice.

“...that is ijj taime (time) for her Chotey to get married,” Mami smiled. “Phirst Arnav bitwaa, then hamre Akaas bitwaa, then NK bitwaa...”

ASR clenched his jaw till it couldn’t be clenched any further without breaking the bone.

“Just meet the niece, Chotey,” Anjali whispered. “Nani will be happy. You don’t have to marry her. You can always make excuses later.” She turned to look around her anxiously. If her Chotey had one of his famous temper tantrums in these surroundings...

“Ladki he, Arnav bitwaa. Baamb (bomb) naahi he. Mil lio, mil lio,” Mami exhorted him.

“Chotey,” came the dreaded call. Nani joined them with two ladies in tow. “Madhumatiji, Garimaji, this is my grandson, Arnav Singh Raizada.”

He turned his head to see two modestly dressed ladies greeting him with folded hands and affectionate smiles. Their saris were rich enough to suit the occasion but their pallu covered their heads marking them as conventional and orthodox in their beliefs as his Nani.

ASR quickly folded his hands and said, “Namaste.”

 Anjali heaved a sigh of relief. At least he was keeping up the appearances, she thought.

The ladies smiled at him and Nani looked at him, her face suffused with pride at her grandson’s good manners. She decided to hook him before his rare display of manners vanished in to thin air and he decided to make a run for it.

 “Where is your niece, Madhumatiji? I want to introduce her to Chotey,” Nani asked.

Madhumati and Garima looked around, their anxious eyes trying to locate the young girl.

“She was here a moment ago, Jiji,” Garima said in a low voice, her frantic eyes scanning the crowd.

“Where did Titliyaa vanish off to, Nandkisore?” Madhumatiji wondered.

As the Raizadas and the guardians of the girl looked around, ASR made his escape. “Excuse me, I need to talk to Majumdar,” he said.

Anjali and Nani tried to frown at him.

“A client. I need to talk to him. I will leave after meeting him. You carry on, Di. I will send Mohan to get you whenever you are ready to leave,” he said, his face making it clear that he would brook no more argument.

He nodded at the company and turned and left.

Anjali, Mami and Nani sighed. Next time they would have to kidnap him and tie him to a chair before introducing a prospective bride to him.

Section 2

ASR strode away from the main hall, fury and fatigue overwhelming him in equal measure. How dare his Di try to trap him in to marriage? How many times had he told his family that he had no intention of getting married? Love was for idiots who had nothing better to do! Marriage was for fools who were willing to delude themselves all their lives that relationships lasted, that love was something more that sexual attraction and infatuation...

“Chodiye hamein,” the furious order with a tinge of fear underlying it fell on his ears and halted his feet.

 He turned to look in the direction of the altercation. It was a dimly-lit corner of the garden. He could make out the figures of a man and a woman.

“What is wrong with you? Why are you accosting strangers?” the lady asked in exasperation...no, not lady, a girl. The man mumbled something Arnav could not hear.

“Chodiye hamara haath,” the girl pulled her arm which was apparently in the hold of the man.

Some girl was in trouble. And the girl had amazingly polite language and a sweet voice for someone who was trying to extricate herself from a sticky situation by the sheer power of her tongue.

Arnav’s feet took him silently closer to the couple.

Suddenly the man yelped. “My leg, my leg.”

“Maaf keejiye, I had to stamp you and that too with high heels. But what can I do if you don’t let go of my arm?” the girl asked reasonably.

Arnav was close enough to see the man swaying and hear his slurred mumble, “Come with me. I can show you a good time.”

“If you don’t let go of me, I will call my family. Before you can show me a good time, my Buaji will flatten you with her belan,” the girl threatened the man.

A small smile appeared suddenly on khadoos ASR’s lips. He waited for the scene to play out.

The man, fed up of her reluctance, yanked her arm. The girl yelped in pain.

“Let her go,” ASR ruled.

The man turned around in shock, dragging the girl behind him.

“Who are you? Get lost. She is my maal,” the drunk man claimed.

“Maal?” the girl asked, perplexed. “I am not anybody’s maal,” she claimed. “I am Khushi Kumari Gupta.”

ASR’s lips twitched but his eyes remained alert. “You heard the lady.”

The swaying would-be kidnapper hissed obscenities at ASR and tried to twist the girl’s arm but before he could manage it, his nose met ASR’s clenched fist and he collapsed in an untidy heap on the ground.

The girl gasped in shock and admiration.

“Come with me,” ASR said softly.

“You really hit him?” Khushi asked in awe as she followed him to a safer, better-lit section of the gardens. “You hit him and knocked him out just like Salman Khanji does in the phillums?”

ASR turned to look at her and felt a hand close over his heart.

Moon-like face with delicate features. Wide, beautiful eyes. A nosepin glittering on her patrician nose. Long, silky hair falling down her back. A tall, lissom body covered in a glittering maroon lehenga with a rich red border. A gold necklace adorned her swan-like neck and elaborate earrings hung from her ears.

She was beautiful, ethereal, a fairy from another land. Purity shone from her as if from a pearl. They stood looking at each other for a long moment.

“Tum...” he paused. He cleared his throat to continue. “Tum theek ho?”

A wide smile lit her face, animation adding to her beauty and charm. “Hum bilkul theek he.” Her eager eyes looked up trustingly in to his.  “Suniye Ji, will you teach me how to hit men?” she asked.

“What the!” he exclaimed.

“Please, please. I will make a big bin of jalebi for you. Big, gol, gol, red jalebi,” she tried to tempt him.

He looked at her in silence for a moment, startled. Then he asked, “Why? Are you planning on getting in to similar situations again?”

The smile vanished from her face as if it had never been.

She took a step closer to him. “No,” she whispered. “I was scared,” she admitted in a low voice. “It was dark and he was..,” she swallowed hard. “If you hadn’t come then, I would have had to scream and hit him with my chappal...make a scene...and then my Buaji and Amma would have said that it was all my fault, that I beg and borrow trouble wherever I go.”

ASR swallowed hard. “Drunk men misbehave at parties sometimes. Try and avoid them. Don’t walk about alone,“ he advised. His headache was gone. His sleep had fled, leaving him fresh and alert enough to protect her from all the evils on earth, her own personal warrior.

She nodded, her eyes on his direct ones. “I just wanted a glass of water. I was looking for it when...” She looked down at her slender arm. He could see the bruises left by the drunkard’s fingers. A wave of fury rocked him.

 “Are you here alone? At this time of the night?” he asked, his eyes sharp.

“Of course not,” she replied. “Will my family let me attend a party alone? My Amma and Buaji are here. My Jiji  stayed back with our Babuji tonight. He has a headache,” she informed him.

“I see,” he said. “I will take you to the main hall and wait till you find your family.”

“You will? Aap kitne ache hein! I thought all men in Delhi are boors. Hamare Lucknow mein, all the men I know are gentlemen. But here...” she pursed her lips.

“You are from...Lucknow?” he asked, his throat tight with bitter memories of the city he had been born in.

“Ji, ji,” Khushi smiled. “I didn’t introduce myself to you,” she lamented, placing her hand on her head. “I am so forgetful. Jiji says my head is like a sieve. Bura mat maaniyega. I am Khushi Kumari Gupta.”

“Arnav Singh Raizada,” he said. The name that could make grown men sweat meant nothing to her.

“Arnav? What a sweet name!” she smiled away.

“Sweet?” he asked in affront. No one had ever dared to call him sweet and get away with it. Not even his Mama had dared to call him sweet. “I am not sweet,” ASR declared.

“You are too,” Khushi insisted.

“In fact I am so not sweet that I am diabetic,” ASR declared.

“Diabetic? That is shakkar ki bimari, isn’t it?” she asked, her face anxious.

“Yes.”

Her face fell. “Then you can’t have my jalebi,” she lamented.

“I don’t want your jalebi,” ASR refused her offer.

“But I want to thank you for your help tonight. How can a halwai thank someone who can’t eat sweets?” she wondered. “What shall I give you?”

“I don’t want anything,” ASR declared. “I have everything I need.”

Khushi frowned at him. “Is there anyone on earth who has everything he wants? You must be a saint.”

“I am no saint. Do I look like a saint to you?” he asked, furious.

“No...” she said slowly, imagining him with untidy, matted locks, beard, saffron dhoti and giving up the picture. “Gussa kyon ho rahe ho, Ji?” Khushi asked. “Aap se ek baat poochoon?”

ASR dragged his eyes away from the enchanting girl with difficulty.

She took his silence for permission.

“When you were a child,” she paused.

He had to look at her.

“You pretended to hate it when others gave you gifts on your birthday, didn’t you?” she asked.

ASR’s eyes widened.

“Yes, I am right,” she said with glee, locking her fingers and holding her hands to her chest in an expression of intense happiness at her Eureka moment.

His eyes narrowed.

“I will take you to your family,” he bit out. “I am sure they will be relieved to see that their precious niece is safe.”

Khushi giggled. “Now you are feeling sympathy for that drunk man, aren’t you?”

ASR looked at her. Her laughter was contagious. He had to clench his jaw not to laugh.

“Buaji always says that I will be the death of the man who is unfortunate enough to marry me,” Khushi laughed.

“She may very well be right,” ASR opined.

Khushi giggled. “You are so funny! But suniye Ji, don’t think that I will forget to give you a gift if you make me laugh.”

ASR looked at her with something approaching wonder. Funny? He?

“Shall I do chikankari work on a kurta and give it to you?” Khushi asked.

Great! Another set of kurta-pyjama that he would never wear, he thought.

 “Why are you forcing a gift on me?” he asked. “Are you trying to make me sorry I saved you?”

“Aap gussa kyon ho rahe ho, Ji?”’ she asked with unimpaired cheer. “I will give you the pyjama too, not just the kurta.”

ASR stared at her, speechless. Then he croaked, “Chalo. I will take you to the hall.”

Khushi nodded, unwilling to leave him but knowing that her Buaji would be bursting blood vessels at not seeing her.

They walked towards the brightly-lit building with slow, reluctant feet.

“Suniye Ji, when you meet my family,” she paused.

“Yes?” ASR was in full interrogation mode.

“Can you please not tell them what happened tonight?” she pleaded earnestly, her hands folded in prayer. “Please, please, meri arajj suniye.”

ASR frowned. “They should know. It will make them keep a closer watch on you,” he declared.

Khushi placed her hands on her hips. “You want to see them cry and lock me in my house? I will wilt away like a flower without water if I cannot go out and meet my friends,” she pretended to droop like a dehydrated flower.

ASR had to swallow a smile at her dramatics.

“And they will book the first train to Lucknow,” she said.

ASR’s face lost any hint of any amusement at the unwelcome news.

But her face lit up as though someone had switched on a tube light within her. “Suniye Arnavji, will you tell them that I was running away with that man, planning to elope with him? Then we can return to Lucknow tomorrow. I won’t have to spend one month in Delhi.”

Arnav stared at her, feeling a strange sense of loss at the very thought of this girl going away from him...that is, away from Delhi.

Her face fell. “But...but I won’t be able to see you again.” She looked at him, her direct eyes on his naked ones. “Arnavji, if I go away...after tonight...will we ever meet again?”

He had no answer to give. The lump in his throat threatened to choke him till eternity.

She sighed. “Pata nahi kyon, I feel as though I have known you forever.”

ASR tried to swallow through a dry throat.

“You helped me,” her voice wobbled. “And I have nothing to give you in return.” She tried to blink away her tears. “You will go away to your house,” she sniffed delicately. “I will go to Lucknow and we will never meet again after tonight,” he voice died away.

“Khushi,” he whispered.

“But I will never forget you,” she panted her promise, her tears choking her. “Not even when I am old and all my teeth have fallen and I can’t see well anymore.”

“Khushi, don’t cry,” he croaked. His chest hurt as though someone had placed a million tonnes of iron scrap to rest there.

A sob shook her slender body. She drew in a lungful of air, caught hold of his hand, lifted it to her face and pressed a soft kiss on the back of his hand. “Thank you,” she whispered against the burning skin of his hand.

ASR trembled in shock at the effect her simple touch had on his body and heart. His fingers tightened around her hand.

They were at the doorway of the hall.

ASR drew in a deep breath. There was no way Khushi was going to Lucknow...or he was letting go of her hand.

“Come with me,” he instructed. He led her in to the hall.

“Chotey,” Anjali gasped.

Nani gaped, her mouth moving like that of a landed fish.

Mami removed her goggles to check if she had really seen Arnav leading the girl by her hand in to the hall.

“Di, Nani, Mami, this is Khushi,” he declared. They wanted him to marry, didn’t they? Then they could very well live with his choice, he thought, tightening his hold on Khushi’s slender fingers.

“Titliyaa,” Madhumatiji gasped. “Where were you? We were looking all over for you. You didn’t get in to any trouble, did you, Nandkisore?”

“Bitwaa,” Garima gasped. “You found her? She is alright, isn’t she? Khussi, Khussi, tum theek ho na?”

ASR swallowed. So Khushi was the niece they had been trying to ram down his throat?

“You know Arnavji, Amma, Buaji?” Khushi asked in simple directness.

The ladies frowned. “Why shouldn’t we know him, Parmeswari? He is Devyaniji’s grandson,” Buaji said.

“You know hamre Arnav bitwaa, Hello Hi Bye Bye?” Mami asked Khushi, nudging Nani.

“Haan...” her voice trailed away. “He helped me. He is so kind,” Khushi said smiling at Mami.

Nani choked. Anjali rubbed her back in sympathy as she asked Khushi, “Chotey is...kind?”

“Chotey?” Khushi frowned in confusion.

“Your...Arnavji,” Anjali tried to hide a smile at ASR’s discomfited expression. “I am his Di. This is his Nani. And this is his Mami.”

Khushi smiled widely and tried to fold her hands together in a collective Namaste but the fingers of one hand were still under the monopoly of ASR. She gave up on the effort and smiled, “He is so kind. So amusing. He is such a good friend.”

ASR blushed.

“Ahem...” Mami cleared her throat. “You like our Arnav bitwaa?”

“Like him? Of course I like him. I don’t think I can ever like anyone so much,” Khushi smiled happily, pressing his fingers in her excitement.

“Arnav bitwaa, you like Khussi? Or you want to be dukhi all your life?’ Mami asked, a naughty twinkle in her eyes.

He tightened his fingers around hers and drew her to stand close to him, surrounded by his warmth and strength. Khushi lifted her head to smile at him, her heart in her eyes.

“I like Khushi,” he said softly.

Mami put her fingers in her mouth and let out a wolf-whistle.

All burst out laughing.