Monday, 13 February 2012


Khushi had somehow managed to convince Nathaniel that she was alright and send him back to work. She had not told him anything about her past, and her connection with Arnav. She had made a life for herself here in Goa, and wanted nothing to disrupt it. Hence, she had blamed her frightened, edgy self on her frayed nerves that had unsettled due to the fall. So he had dropped her to her house, and had gone back to the office on her insistence.
Fists clenched.
Eyes red.
Face grave.
Arnav sat in his cabin, eyeing the person forth him with the deepest possible contempt.
Nathaniel continued explaining his and Khushi's designs to Arnav, completely oblivious of the deathly glare he was being subjected to.
"All these sarees' patterns have been designed by Khushi. You see, since it is an ethnic Indian wear collection, she has worked on patterns from all regions of India. Jaipuri, Rajputi, Mewari, South Indian silks, Orissi, Assamese, Kashmiri, Gujrati, Bengali, Maharashtrian et al. And not to forget, her speciality, Lucknowi", he added, giving Arnav a very long smile, that irked him to no end.
"She's from Lucknow you see!", he chirped.
You don't have to show me where my own wife's from, you ass hole! Arnav cursed. Not at all liking the way this stud was talking about his Khushi. The way he had held her in his arms was still ingrained into his memory, and its flashbacks were only making it more difficult for him to control himself from getting across the table and giving this stud, a makeover.
"I'm really sorry about Khushi's inability at being here for this meeting. But you are aware of the accident that had taken place earlier today. So I really hope you can understand. But I can assure you, she's one of the most sincere and hard working people. Extremely dedicated to her work...", and he went on and on praising Khushi.
Arnav's eyes narrowed dangerously at the annoying chit forth him. This guy was making him extremely unhappy. He couldn't exactly remember the last time that sitting through a meeting had been this difficult. He had had no intentions to work today, after his mood had been spoiled by this new entry into his life. But the board had insisted on receiving the details on the designers by the evening, hence he had had no other choice. Though he had delayed meeting his wife's new "christian stud friend cum partner", in the end he had to sit through his tiresome tirade.
Khushi was making jalebis.
Ever since she had seen him that morning, her mind had gone for a toss, and her means of combating this problem had resulted into the entire neighbourhood feasting on delicious Lucknowi jalebis that day. The ration shop delivery boy had been five times. Cause the cooking session had been on since 11 that morning, and had still not concluded.
...Laad Governor!...
...Delhi ki sabse badi dusht aatma..!!!
...Goa hi mila tha inhe aane ke liye!!!
Maano koi pret-aatma piche lag gayi ho...!!! Humaara picha hi nahi chod rahe..!!!
Na jaane kaunsi manhoos ghadi thi jab hum us fashion show wali raat ko unki baahon mein jaake gire the... bas! Tabse hi humaare sar par baithe hain!!...",
Khushi continued cursing, munching on a jalebi all the while.
That was when her doorbell sounded.
"Lagta hai ration wala hoga...", she murmured as she put down the ladle, and marched towards the door.
But when she opened it, she found herself looking into the cause of her unrest.

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