part0036

Khushi edged closer to bade papa on the bed he was resting against the headboard, peering over the screen in his hands. He was playing PSP, his latest addiction to pass time courtesy Karan chachu, with utmost concentration. She could not help but cheer for her bade papa as his animated car raced towards the finish line. But alas, around one of the last hurdles it skidded off the road and crashed.

“Damn, it always happens like this. I don’t seem to move ahead of this level,” he groaned in utter frustration like a child.

Khushi grinned. Now a lot better after his operation, bade papa was still advised to take ample rest for few more months. And since Avishji kept him away from office work, he was finding new ways to pass his time, apart from chit-chatting with buaji and herself. Video games being the lastest fad.

“You need practice bade papa,” she forwarded a sliced apple pierced in a fork to him which he grudgingly ate.

“No, there is some trick here that I don’t know. I am very sure,” he replied petulantly.

Khushi rolled her eyes popping a slice in her own mouth.

“Laddoo, where is Rishabh these days?” he suddenly asked. “He would know all this stuff, won’t he? He is too good with computers and games. And he hasn’t come to see me after the operation even once. Earlier he used to come here every other day. He missed your wedding too. I am sure he is back in town by now. Call him over sometime,” he looked at her.

And Khushi knew this is a good opportunity to revive her contact with her best friend. She could give him a call and express bade papa’s wish to see him and take things from there. Riya di has also been asking if they have fought, and now bade papa. People have started noticing the absence of their interaction. And she herself missed him. She might not like him in the same way he does, but she likes him nonetheless. He has been an integral part of her life for so long that not being in contact with him felt strange. And she had told Avishji in very clear terms that she will not break her friendship with him, regardless of all the drama that happened before their marriage and so she had nothing holding her back.

Because the moment bade papa asked her to call him over, a set of honey-brown eyes turned into hard granite and snapped up in her direction. The owner of them, who was sitting in the same room working away on his laptop, could have not turned any more stiff to show what he thought of this particular suggestion. Khushi sighed. It was a fleeting moment which passed as soon as it had arrived, and he went back to typing whatever he was typing a moment back. Yet the silent wall that suddenly got erected around him would not let Khushi look past his unease. She knew she wouldn’t be happy if he got upset. Calling Rishabh will have to wait.

How did Avishji start having this unspoken hold over her, she cannot understand. Maybe it’s a connection that comes along with a shared room, shared vows, shared surname and a shared life. A connection that was getting a tad bit stronger each passing day when she watches him get ready for office, or waited for him to come back, or slept being held by him in the same bed. Whatever it was, she now genuinely tried to understand everything he did not say. She now wanted to decipher every gesture and posture of his. His approval was gradually becoming indispensable in her life. His happiness and wellbeing was becoming more important than anyone else’s, even her own for that matter. A silent thread that tugged at her and prompted her in his direction at most inappropriate times. A feeling of belonging with him that refuses to escape her now.

And the weird part was that she still did not know what Avishji felt about them. She knew he was mad at Rishabh for proposing her, but then she was his fiancé at the time and any man would get mad at that. He holds her while asleep she knew since two weeks now, but it does not look like he is aware of it and she did not plan on confronting him about it either lest he stops. She liked it, very much. That was the only time he behaved like a husband with her. He has not yet tried to cross any boundary with her, but his actions show that he expects her to behave as his wife in worldly terms at least. He is getting back to talking to her gradually. Is attentive and caring towards her. But it feels like he has no clue how to behave with her as a wife. But that couldn’t be true. He is so much older, he would know, right?

“Babyji, your hot chocolate,” Hariprakash’s voice broke her reverie.

It was evening and they were sitting in bade papa’s room where Avishji had joined them after returning from office. She smiled and took the cup. But when after giving bade papa his lemon tea when Hariprakash forwarded a coffee cup with “Chote sahab, your coffee,” to Avishji, Khushi frowned.

This was her another issue these days. They were now married for almost two months and she was still babyji while Avishji was chote sahab. How is that fair? How will he look at her as his wife if everyone keeps calling her babyji and Laddoo and Titaliya as if she is a four year old with missing front two teeth? Is that why he refuses to look at her as a woman married to him? Yes, they have a considerable age gap, but they were now legally married. Annoyed, she looked at Avishji, who resolutely ignored everything around him and worked away on his laptop. Most probably still pissed about bade papa asking her to call Rishabh over, she deduced. And people call her babyji , she rolled her eyes. But if it’s their age gap that is keeping him to himself, then she will throw a fit for sure. That was something that he was aware of since day one. He better not think of her as a baby. But what does she know what he thinks, even after 24X7 analysis of the enigma called Avish Singh Raizada. Huh.

Looking around at hustling bustling Chandni Chowk, Avish was in the process of securing his current camera lenses back to the bag and screwing up the low-light photography lenses due to the fading natural light in evening. Everything was coming alive as the lights were getting switched on in one shop after the other at dusk. This place, as Khushi said that Riya had told her, was really an awesome photo-op. It was just brimming with old Indian charm. Not only the buildings and markets, but people and the merchandise too. If not for the swanky gadgets and modern vehicles that could be spotted around, it would feel like you have traveled back in time. And, Oh! The smell of food here. This place was a gastronomical heaven. Too bad he still avoided Indian street food like plague. Living abroad for so long does change your standards of hygiene a lot. His wife although nursed no such concerns.

Hanging on to a chaat stall, she was in the process of getting an aloo-tikki made for herself to perfection, all the while chatting a mile per minute with the vendor. He scowled at the unsuspecting man. God only knows how she can talk to everyone she chances upon. Does she never run out of topics? Shaking her head, he screwed the desired lens on his camera and kept the bag aside. Waiting patiently on one of the roadside benches where his wife had thoughtfully sat him before hopping away to get herself a snack, he looked in her direction where she stood with her back to him. Clad in light blue saree, she looked beautiful to say the least. He would have to be practically gay to not feel attracted to her after sleeping with her caged in his arms every damn night. With her soft warm body pressed against his. Her delicious smell soothing him into calmness and burning him into restlessness at the same time. Even right now she was beckoning his attention like a magnet standing so many feet away from him without any difficulty. The saree sexily draped around her willowy porcelain frame. The dip of her waist on either side molding into a gentle flare of her hips. Teasing peek-a-boo that her hair and her deep cut blouse were playing on her back in the slight breeze, irritating the hell out of him.

But he knew better than to act just on his physical impulses. His feelings for her were still not on a leveled ground. They ranged from extremely possessive sometimes to vaguely abrupt at others. He needed time to be able to bring in at least some acceptance in his heart regarding the institution of marriage he had despised for so long. To wrap his mind around the idea that she will not betray him like ... well. He could not help the comparisons. And he, himself did not want to be like Sujata Mathur either. Not valuing the bond they shared even a little and fully expecting to enjoy the benefits that come along with it. Moreover, Khushi cannot separate marriage and a physical relationship from each other. Had he valued her any less deeply, he would not have given another thought before taking their marriage to next level. Too innocent and traditional, she won’t deny him his marital rights he knew. But that would classify as using her.

Young and naive, living her life by the book, he doubted that she would be able to understand his predicament. And of all the people in his life, he did not want to hurt her with this harsh truth. She was one person in his life who had never hurt him intentionally and he had all the intentions to return the favor, to the best of his abilities. Having said that, he knew he was selfish. Because in spite of all his past-issues, his trust-issues, his anger-issues, he had no intention let her go from his side. Not now, not ever. No matter how much time it takes for him to sort things out in his head, he expects her to be around. Hell, he will make sure she is around. And that pushed his train of thought to the sour topic of Rishabh Raichand.

“Your camera all set?” Khushi interrupted his thoughts taking a seat beside him, with a plate of steaming aloo-tikki in her hands.

“Yeah," he nodded.

“So what’s the plan now?” she asked while fishing for something in her bag, keeping her plate aside.

“I have talked to the shopkeeper across the street. He’ll let us go to his terrace for a few long shots,” he replied.

“Cool. Here,” she forwarded a foiled wrap towards him.

“What is this?” he questioned.

“Snack for you of course, what else? Did you really think I’ll eat without you?” she looked at him as it should be only obvious to him too. “We have been roaming around here since noon and your sugar will go low if you don’t eat now. And I have learnt my lesson from last time. I had Hariprakash pack these veggie sandwiches for you from home itself,” she added smugly.

A smile flitted across his face. Taking it from her, he slowly unwrapped the foil. Even before taking the first bite, he knew he’d love them, just because of the concern that went behind all of it. For him, from Khushi.

When his father had insisted that instead of hovering over him all the time, the newlyweds should go out and spend some time together this weekend, he had thought of taking her to a good restaurant or a club or even one of those dumb Hindi movies if she was in a mood for one. But no, Khushi was adamant on going somewhere he would enjoy too and was astute enough to gauge that he would not like to go to a restaurant or a movie. Relenting he had asked for some good photo-op place in or around Delhi and lo and behold, fairy god-mother Riya was contacted and Chandni Chowk emerged the winner. He was loving it here and from the looks of it, his little wife knew how to enjoy whatever came her way in life.

She had demanded to be clicked in different poses, in front of different backgrounds in between his random shots. Shopped quite a few odd trinkets available in this ancient market. Talked to hordes of people. Played a tourist guide to him, a bad one although. Reviewed his photography skills solemnly while peering into the camera screen after every shot. Smiled and giggled merrily. Had he not been wiser, it would have looked that she wanted to come here for herself than for him. So infectious was her charm and enthusiasm, that he had caught himself smiling like a fool more often than not, the whole afternoon.

Content, after their impromptu snack session, he unmindful secured her hand in his while checking for oncoming vehicles. Unmindful, Khushi too held on to his arm with her free hand and started walking closer to him. Holding onto each other they crossed the road. The bridges were starting to build.

“Why? Are you tired?” concern laced his voice.

“No. I am fine. Not at all tired,” she said concentrating on the wooden bench.

“Photos are not that important Khushi. And as it is I have got enough shots. We can leave” he offered.

“But I want to see the shots you plan to take from the terrace,” she insisted.

“Okay. Then… lets go,” he tipped his head in the direction of staircase.

“What will I do there?” she asked.

“Same thing you’ve been doing since noon. Be my model cum assistant cum guide,” he suggested.

“But...” she tried to come up with some argument.

“I am not leaving you alone here even for a minute Khushi. This is Delhi and God only knows what kind of neighborhood this is,” he sternly replied. Does she not understand how dangerous it is for her? Specially her. What if someone harasses her? She cannot even run or escape due to her limp. He will be damned if he leaves his beautiful young wife alone like this when anti-social elements are lurking around every corner in this city. Photography can go to hell. Khushi is priceless.

“How about I go and sit in that restaurant outside? That will be safe,” she proposed.

“Either you are coming with me or we are leaving for home,” he replied in a no nonsense tone.

She pleaded with her eyes.

“Khushi, give me one good reason why you don’t want to come with me,” he sounded exasperated.

“I... ” she avoided his eyes now.

“Yes... you what?” his eyes narrowed.

“I cannot. The stairs,” she almost whispered.

Realization dawned in his eyes. “But...you climb stairs at home” he replied, feeling guilty for pressurizing her.

“It has railings for support. This is open staircase. I... I cannot” she replied in a small voice.

“Let’s go back then,” he made his decision.

“No Avishji. You cannot avoid doing things in life because of me. It would be nice if you understand that sooner,” she replied practically, ignoring the clench in her heart. She had refused to resent her handicap all her life. But somehow with Avishji now, she longed to be normal. To be able to walk along with him without hobbling. Not to be looked at by by-passers with extra curiosity. To not look at stairs and get daunted. She knew it was an impossible and absurd thought, but she wanted to be perfect for him, in every sense.

He looked at her incredulously for a moment, before a resolution descended in his stature. “You know what, you’re right,” he said.

Khushi smiled sadly in acknowledgment, but before she could turn away from him to proceed towards the wooden bench, Avish bent down and locked his one hand under her knees, tucked the arm under her shoulder blades, lifted her off the ground, secured her close into his frame and proceeded towards the staircase. “We should not avoid doing things in life because of anything,” he smiled at her bewildered face.

To say she was shocked, was an understatement. But the feeling rapidly converted into happiness accompanied by shyness. The warmth radiating from his strong chest melting her insides like butter. As asked, she looped her hands around his neck for better balance, dazed. This was the first time she was so near Avishji in a conscious state and that made her nearly incapable of registering pretty much anything else. The overall feeling was however toe-curling and exhilarating to say the least. It took a humongous effort to not cuddle up into his body when he smelled so spicy and masculine. Avishji however, suspiciously, looked quite comfortable having her body in his hold. Does he...know? She was not sure. He definitely does not lift her while she sleeps and right now he was looking rather comfortable with her weight too. Immediately she felt disheartened. Is he not affected by her proximity at all like she is? Even a little?

Avish planted her feet back on the ground, and took his hands away from her body with an inhuman effort. Literally strangling the need to crush her to himself and kiss her senseless. Rip off this excuse of clothing she was wearing. Nobody ever warned him to not touch a female clad in an Indian saree. Every God damned inch he touched on her back, sides and arms was devoid of clothes that he was perfectly able to see that she was in fact wearing. But the saree is so thin, blouse is barely there and collectively they do not cover much of her skin if you ask him. And to add to his misery she was propped horizontally in his arms, against his chest, in the line of his vision, all the while dressed in this...thing. And this thing is bloody dangerous, he decided. Trying to calm his runaway senses, he turned away from her and started fiddling with his camera to divert his mind. Preparing himself for a repeat show of this torture on their way down.

The fact that Khushi had turned pink and was actually quiet for a while now, did nothing to help. Although he suspected that she knew by now he held her while sleeping, not that he is not going to bring that up ever, her reaction to his touch in wide awake state had only fueled his wild imagination. Concentrate. on. something. else, he told himself.

“It’s beautiful here” she chimed a while later.

“Hmmm” he grunted, clicking a random shot halfheartedly.

“I love the view from here. All the houses and the pink sky. I had seen this view in one of the movies, what was the name, yeah, Monsoon Wedding. You should see it, its’ a little grown up movie but it is good you know. Oh! look down below Avishji, the streets are looking so colorful with all the people and lights,” her vocal chords were back into business.