Chapter 17: Khushi
Khushi fought back tears as she mixed the batter for jalebi. The Raizada family hadn't been in contact since last night, and now it was mid afternoon. She knew that the chances of Arnav-ji's answer matching hers diminished with every hour that passed without any word from him or his family.
She'd agonised over her decision, stressing about his past relationships and his stance on religion and writing list after list of questions she needed to ask when they next met. And she'd eventually come to realise that his answers, whatever they were, wouldn't change hers. His lack of faith was a part of him, it made him him, and as long as he never interfered with her own beliefs and practises, Khushi knew she could be happy. As for his girlfriends, those faceless women who might have touched him in ways that she couldn't imagine, Arnav-ji couldn't go back and change the past, even if he wanted to. All he could do, all they could do, was look towards the future. And Khushi knew, without a doubt, that she wanted a future with him.
I'll move on if he says no, she promised herself, I won't let him destroy me.
But her heart quailed at the prospect.
She'd carried her phone everywhere last night, sure that he'd call when he found out that she'd agreed. She'd fallen asleep in the sitting room - her phone still clutched in her hand - and dreamt of him. It was a hazy, confused dream where he'd chased her through a fogged landscape, calling her name. When he'd caught her, Khushi had buried herself in him, hiding from his all-knowing eyes. She'd gasped as his talented fingers had traced fire over her back and neck, but when she'd tried to get away, he'd held her tighter. His hands had cupped her face and his breath had mingled with hers as he'd leaned in, close, and then closer.
Hai Devi Maiyya, what a dream. How shameless I've become!
In her distraction, Khushi forgot to keep her arms away from the splattering oil. Jiji came running as she squealed in pain, a large drop burning her forearm.
"Khushi! Are you all right?"
Jiji took her arm, inspecting it carefully while reaching for the box of first aid supplies they kept on the shelf. Khushi snatched her hand away, this final injustice just too much for her tortured heart.
"I can do it, Jiji."
She turned away so her sister couldn't see the tears that threatened to spill. But Jiji was insistent, ignoring Khushi's protests as she gently applied a cream before bandaging the wound.
"He'll call, Khushi. Devi Maiyya won't let you down," Jiji whispered.
Khushi could only nod. She returned to the jalebi after her sister left, losing herself in the rhythms of frying the batter and dipping the results in syrup. She ate mindlessly, the taste transporting her instantly to her childhood kitchen, her mother standing beside her as they made jalebi together. She had a small mountain of jalebi on her plate when she was done, a pile of warm golden spirals that usually brought joy to her heart but today only made her smile thinly.
Babu-ji looked up from his newspaper as she placed the plate on the dining table and caught her hand as she tried to escape.
"Everything will work out for the best, child," he reassured her as he pulled her into a hug.
Khushi nodded against her father's kurta before venturing outside. Happy-ji approached when he saw her appear on the veranda, smiling as he wiped his hands on a rag already saturated with grease.
"Namaste, Khushi-ji."
"Namaste, Happy-ji. How are you?"
"Good, good. Did that stern man find you?"
"What stern man?"
"The man who was here this morning. He was in a big white car. He sat in it for hours, staring towards your house. When I asked him what he was doing, he said your name before driving away."
Arnav-ji? Why had he been here, and for hours? Had he been gathering the courage to accept ... or to say goodbye?
All at once, Khushi realised she was without her phone. She ran to the kitchen, leaving her bewildered friend staring after her, and searched frantically for the tiny black box that connected her to him.
"Jiji!" she called when her phone didn't appear on the countertops, "Jiji, have you seen my phone?"
"No..." came Jiji's distracted reply from outside.
"Sanka Devi! Stop yelling so loudly, all of Laxmi Nagar can hear you."
"I need my phone, Bua-ji, have you seen it?"
"I hate that thing, always buzzing and chirping and making me nervous," her aunt complained from her bedroom, "You should stick to the landline."
As if brought to life by Bua-ji's praise, the ancient black phone started ringing.
"Hai re Nand Kishore ... there it goes ..." Bua-ji shuffled to the sitting room.
Khushi searched in her bedroom, unheeding of the mumble of Bua-ji's voice as she spoke to whichever neighbour or friend who'd called. It wasn't on her desk (Khushi quickly paid her respects to Devi Maiyya, asking for strength and protection), it wasn't under the bed (Khushi made a mental note to sweep under there, sneezing from the dust), and it wasn't in her almaari (Khushi noted the messy pile of kameezes and dupattas and vowed to be more careful when putting the washing away).
"Khushi!" called Bua-ji.
"In a minute, Bua-ji," she shouted back, now searching the chest of drawers in her room.
"Khushi!"
Sighing, she gave up and joined Bua-ji in the living room. Her eyes lit up when she spied her phone on the dining table, sitting innocently next to the plate of jalebi.
"I found it!" she grinned, rushing to her phone and dancing with it held high, "I found it, I found it."
"Parmeshwari! Sit down and listen to what I have to say!"
But Khushi was too busy rejoicing. She bounced to her Bua-ji's side and pulled her up, playing a song from her phone to accompany them. "Dhinka Chika" filtered through the house as Khushi forced Bua-ji to gyrate to the beat.
"Khussi ... Khushi ... Sanka Devi! Listen to me."
"No! First dance with me!" Khushi commanded before running outside to grab her sister.
Soon Khushi was dancing around Bua-ji and Jiji, who seemed oddly unwilling to join in.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her arms still in the air.
"Oh, Titaliya, I've been trying to tell you. Devyani Raizada called."
"Oh," Khushi slumped into a dining chair.
"Arnav-babua ... he said ... he said ..."
"What?" she whispered, "What did he say?"
Please, please, please, Devi Maiyya. Please.
"He said yes!" Bua-ji broke into a wide smile, "Apparently he's a madman, to say yes to a crazy girl like you."
Her entire body sagged from relief. She was glad she was already sitting down. Khushi blinked back tears as Jiji hugged her.
"I told you, didn't I?" her sister whispered.
Yes. He said yes.
Her tears overflowed as Babu-ji and Amma walked through the door, their arms full of vegetables from the markets.
"He said yes," Khushi ran to them and hugged her father, "Babu-ji, he said ... he said yes."
Later, she sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at her phone. She'd spent the afternoon celebrating with her family and making sweets for the next day. He and his family were coming to complete the Shagun ritual, the first step of many on their journey to wedded bliss. Khushi had laughed until she cried, happiness threatening to explode from her pores.
It still felt like a dream. She needed to hear it from him. Khushi's phone chimed with a message as she scrolled through it to find his name, and her pulse quickened as she realised it was from him. It was a blank message with a single attachment that she opened eagerly. Music filled her room.
Raat ko aaunga main,
Tujhe le jaunga main.
Film dikhaunga main,
Sair karaunga main.
Mujhse shaadi karogi?
She blinked away happy tears as she dialled his number, laughing softly.
Bua-ji is right. He really is mad.
"Yes or no?" he greeted.
"I've already said yes," Khushi grinned.
"But I didn't ask. So I'm asking now."
"Yes. A thousand times yes."
"Khushi ... I'm ... I'm sorry it took so long ... I just ..." he lapsed into silence.
"It's a big decision. I understand. It's the rest of our lives."
There was a short pause, in which she reached up to play with the stars that hung from her bed frame.
Thank you Amma. Thank you Babu-ji.
"Di wants to know if we should wait until you finish college for the wedding?" Arnav-ji asked.
"May I? I'd love that."
"You still have six months left," he objected.
"Arnav-ji ..."
"Khushi ... six months. Twenty-six weeks. More than a hundred and eighty days, four thousand, three hundred-"
"Sshhhh," she comforted him, "It'll be over before you know it."
"I won't stand for it, you know?" he threatened, "You and Di working against me like this."
"This is the first and last time."
"Why don't I believe you?" he laughed.
The song lyrics are from 'Mujhse Shaadi Karogi' (Dulhan Hum Le Jayenge, 2000). An English translation:
Raat Ko Aaunga Main, [I'll come in the evening]
Tujhe Le Jaunga Main. [And take you away.]
Film Dikhaunga Main, [I'll take you to see a film,]
Sair Karaunga Main. [I'll show you around.]
Mujhse Shaadi Karogi? [Will you marry me?]