A Very Arshi Holi: Part 3

First, he checked where the bhaang was being prepared. The men told him that Khushi had left ages ago but couldn't say where she'd gone. Then, he methodically checked the places she'd told him she'd visit this morning – the tents full of water guns, the pavilions full of dancers, the lines for the carnival rides she enjoyed. She wasn't anywhere.

The only place left was the gazebo. Memories bombarded Arnav as he strode across the grounds – Khushi taking his hand and holding it against her heart, Khushi telling him that she needed him to answer a question, Khushi asking him why her heartbeat quickens whenever they're together. But the gazebo was empty when he got there.

The sudden uncoiling in his chest took his breath away. He hadn't really been worried – Khushi wouldn't have left the estate – but her absence was starting to gnaw at him. Arnav hurried back to where he was supposed to meet NK, his eyes darting left and right, hoping for a glimpse of her white salwaar suit, her long plait, her brilliant smile.

"Arnav-ji!"

He turned to see a blur of white launch itself at him, and then he was staggering backwards from the force of the impact. Khushi snuggled into him, giggling happily. He took a moment to breathe her in.

Anger slowly replaced his worry.

"Khushi, where the hell were you? Why don't you have your phone? Do you know how long I've been looking for you?"

"Arnav-ji," she mumbled, "my Arnav-ji. No one else's. Mine."

"Are you even listening to me? I want to know where you were."

Arnav tried to pull away, but she only held him tighter, repeating his name.

"Khushi?" worry seeped back into his voice, "Talk to me, Khushi, what happened?"

He gently detached Khushi's arms and stepped back to look at her. Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated, and she had trouble focusing on him. She'd had bhaang.

"Khushi, you said you wouldn't have any bhaang this year," he reminded her.

She blinked – two long, slow blinks – and then shook her head.

"N-noooooo," her mouth formed a perfect O, "I didn't have any bhaang. Khushiii Kumaaari G-Gupta Singh Raizadaaa doesn't have bhaang."

"And yet," he fought a smile, "here you are. Under the influence."

"Aaammm Noooot."

Khushi staggered for no apparent reason and Arnav's hands tightened on her arms.

"Who gave you the bhaang?"

"Akaddu Singh La-Laad Governor," she said, gazing at him in adoration.

"Focus, Khushi. Who gave you the bhaang?"

"No one. Di gave me thandai. Two glasses," Khushi held up four fingers, "No wait. Three." Now she held up five.

Smiling, Arnav took her hand and kissed each finger in turn, "I can't believe you fell for the same trick again."

"No!" she jerked her hand away, "My fingers will disappear!"

"Your fingers ... what?"

"When you kiss me I feel like I'm going to disappear," she explained, holding her hand two inches from her face and inspecting it, "Good. All my fingers are still there."

"What am I going to do with you, you crazy girl? Come here."

Arnav slid her arm around his neck and scooped her up, cradling her against his chest. She clasped her hands behind his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Laddoo," she murmured, "and chaat. Golgappe. Jalebi. Biryani. Potato curry."

"What are you doing?" he asked as he walked towards the house.

"Jalebi," she repeated, "and chaat. Can you bring me golgappe?"

"I'll take you out tomorrow," Arnav promised, "We can visit your parents on the way. But right now, you need to sleep this off."

"Stop, stop, stop!" Khushi beat at his shoulders until he obeyed, and then squirmed to get down.

"Arnav-ji, I have something ... sss-something very im-important to do," she said, slurring her words slightly.

"Like what?"

"You have to catch me first!"

Arnav reached out for her as she dashed off but her dupatta slipped through his fingers. Muttering a curse, he ran after her. Khushi led him on a merry chase, laughing as she ducked and wove between revelers, and stopped at a table laden with copper and brass glasses.

"You have to drink some."

"No. Khushi, no."

"Arnav-ji! Don't make me threaten you like last year!"

She handed him a glass. "Drink, you prrromisssed."

He closed his eyes, his headache threatening to reappear. Mad. She's going to drive me mad. Arnav took a moment to text NK and let him know that Khushi was safe.

"I promised I'd celebrate Holi with you," he reminded her, "I didn't say anything about bhaang."

"Don't you love me?" she pouted.

"Khushi."

"That's my name. Khush-eeeee. Not yours."

Arnav bit back a laugh as she chanted her own name, punctuating her song randomly with 'What-the', 'Arnav-ji,' and 'jalebi".

"I'm going to regret this."

Khushi squealed as he drank and bounced into his arms as soon as he put the empty glass down.

"You love me, you love me, you love me," she sang.

His problems slowly started to fade away as he spun Khushi around, leaving him free to admire her as she danced. Her plait swung out behind her as she twirled, her eyes were bright, and her smile lit up his universe. Arnav picked up another glass and downed it hurriedly, his eyes never leaving his wife.

She took his hand and led him into the crowds, jumping in circles and singing nonsense. A curious lightness spread all over his body and he couldn't remember why he'd been so stressed earlier. He had the world's most beautiful woman by his side and his family was the happiest they'd been in a long time. What more could life offer? Khushi danced around him, waving her arms in the air and laughing delightedly when he joined in. He steadied her when she lost her balance.

Khushi's smile was like a siren call, and he was unable to resist. He held her by the waist and pulled her flush against him, not caring who saw. She gasped as her back collided with his chest, knocking the air from her lungs. When she looked back at him, Arnav saw her gaze slide from his eyes and lock onto his mouth. Heat flared through him.

"Let's go," he took her hand and led her away.

The gazebo was still empty. Arnav sat against one of its pillars and pulled Khushi down next to him. She snuggled into his arm. It was much quieter here, the music and drums reduced to a low vibration. Khushi hummed something while fiddling absently with one of the buttons on his shirt. He felt pleasantly light-headed. Why couldn't he feel like this all the time?

"Arnav-ji?" she stirred some minutes later.

"Mmmm?"

"I love you more than jalebi. More than channa ... mmm channa ... Do you have any channa?"

Arnav checked his pockets. Phone. Keys. Wallet. Another phone. No channa.

"No baby, I don't" he told his wife, devastated, "I'm sor-sorry."

"But I want jalebi."

"Ohhhhhh, jalebi, not channa."

He checked his pockets again but there was still no jalebi. Maybe Khushi had some in her pockets. He patted her down. Lots of inviting curves. No jalebi.

"That ... that tickles," she complained.

"Jalebi," he explained what he was going.

"Channa," she replied.

Kitchen. That was where the food was.

"Khushi. There's food in the ... in the ... kitchen. Kitchen."

She nodded against him and they stood up slowly, using the pillar for support.

"Arnav-ji, tell the ... the ground to stop moving."

"Stop moving," he ordered the concrete floor of the gazebo.

It didn't listen. They staggered towards the house, using a side entrance that took them directly to the kitchen. Khushi released him to sink against the cabinets. Arnav found the barfi and offered it to her but she slapped his hand away and lay down on the tiles.

"Mmmmm, it's nice and cold."

Cold? Now that she mentioned it, he did feel hot. That looked like fun. He lowered himself next to her, pressing his cheek against the tiles.

"Cold," he murmured, closing his eyes.

"No," Khushi poked his arm, "no sleeping. I want channa."

Channa. Yes. He found a container of channa in the pantry and gave it to Khushi, who struggled upright. They sat shoulder-to-shoulder on the floor as they ate.

Khushi reached for one of the strings of marigolds that hung from the walls and wrapped it around neck.

"Now I'm pretty."

"You're alllwaaaaysss pretty," he told her, kissing her forehead.

"You're a liar," she mumbled as she snuggled into his shoulder.

"Honest. I have the most, extra prettiest wife."

Khushi placed her hand over his heart, "Dhak-dhak."

"Love," he agreed.

His eyes slowly drooped closed, his breathing slowing to match Khushi's.

"Chhote? Khushi-ji? Wake up."

Arnav reluctantly blinked awake, wondering what his sister was doing in their bedroom.

"Di! We're sleeping," his eyes closed again.

"Sshhh, Chhote. You're in the kitchen. Get up."

What?

He opened his eyes to find that he was, indeed, in the kitchen. He sat with his back against the cabinets and Khushi's head in his lap. She had rubbed colour onto his jeans in her sleep. His shirt was a mess, there was a container of channa next to him, and there was colour streaked all over the usually pristine white tiles of the kitchen.

"What happened?" he asked his sister.

"You, Khushi-ji, and bhaang."

The End