Arshi FF
Hello my lovely people
I had written this a while ago, just for fun.
This is an arc from before Diwali episode. The show never had Karwachauth when La was there, they only had the Teej celebration.
This is my version of Karwa Chauth before Payash Wedding and before the Diwali Episode. It is for two reasons, firstly, it is so we know there is no La angle, and secondly because we never got a Khushi moment of regret for falling for Arnav while La was still around. That is so against Khushi’s character. Here we get to see Khushi reigning herself, reprimanding herself and reminding herself that Arnav is not hers.
Hope you like it. Keep reading.
The next chapter of Leaf is a tissue box alert, didn’t want to upset my readers on Karwa Chauth. So, here is a somewhat cutesy story arc, of alternate version, as it is called.
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Karvachauth, Khushi smiled ruefully as she got dressed. Saree, mehendi, jewellery, all day of celebration and all evening of cursing the moon, that was how she had spent every Karvachauth. And every karvachauth, she had argued with her Amma and her Buaji why she must fast. And ever Karvachauth as she had gazed at the moon, she had wondered who was that man whom Devi Maiyya had chosen for her.
“He must be a hunchback,” her sister usually teased her. “Maybe he won’t have no front tooth. And he definitely must have a wart on his nose.”
“He must surely be blind to fall for this silly, clumsy girl.” Her mother would chuckle.
“Haye re Nandkisore, he must be a Sanki himself to want this Sanka Devi,” her Buaji always scolded.
And every year she had sat at her Babuji’s feet and sulked. She had laid out a string of complaints to her Devi Maiyya.
Not this year though. This year, her heart whispered things it mustn’t. Her mind kept projecting his handsome face. This year she had face at last, the one for whom she had fasted, and the one for whom she wished the world, the man she called Laad Governor fondly—Arnav Singh Raizada.
But her a tiny voice kept reminding her about La, of her place in his life.
“Live-in is the same as marriage, Khushi.” Her sister said, as she helped her with the saree. It was a bright red one, her favourite colour. His too. Anjali had mentioned it off handedly that her Chotey loved the colour red. Her heart had fluttered, they had something in common.
As she stood in front of the mirror, she smiled, wishing he’d come tonight, wishing he’d break her fast, wishing he’d hold her eyes in that gut-twisting, breath-stopping way that he always did.
Arnavji, she choked on his name.
But he was in a relationship. La was now her friend.
And she was not the type of girl who indulged men, let alone someone else’s boyfriend. She was an orphan, taken in by the Gupta family. She wouldn’t let them down. She would marry the man her father would choose for her. She would always put her family above everything.
But what about her heart?
“I didn’t know he had a girlfriend when I…”
“Khushi, he treated you so badly, he still treats you so badly, yet you…” her sister hissed. “What is the matter with you?”
What was the matter with her? She touched the bruise around her wrist that was hidden behind her pretty red bangles. He had twisted her arm just the previous day when she had said she was fasting for a good husband. Something had come over him suddenly and he had grabbed her hand and twisted it. And the way his mouth had hovered over hers, she had feared he was going to kiss her. Oh how she feared Arnav was going to kiss her one of these days.
But why Arnav? Why him of all the people? He was so rude, so insulting, and he always made her cry.
But he also made her feel things she didn’t understand. The thought of him made her smile, the sight of him made her heart skip a few beats. Most of all the mention of him and Lavanya made her want to sob her heart out.
And she did just that. She sat in front the tiny idol of Devi Maiyya and she wept. She wept thinking of his name that La had gotten tattooed in her mehendi. She wept thinking of the saree La would wear for him tonight. She wept imagining how La would blush and how Arnav would smile when they would hold each other’s eyes through the sieve. She wept because he belonged to another woman. And she wept because he would never be hers.
But she was his. She would always belong to him.
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Several miles away, at Arnav’s plush mansion, Lavanya read the note Khushi had left for her.
Eat before the break of dawn, fast all day, worship for Arnav’s good health and prosperity, break the fast when the moon comes up, the instructions were all written in clear plain language.
And Lavanya had followed it to the cue. She had taken a day off from work, fasted all day with Anjali and Mano Mami. She had visited every temple in the vicinity with Anjali. They had bought new sarees, met up with Anjali’s friends, gone over to a ladies dance program. She had made a rangoli, learnt how to make a diabetic barfi.
It had been such a festive day, La hadn’t even realised she hadn’t eaten all day. And as the evening as approached, Anjali had helped her wear a red saree.
“But I love pink,” she had said softly.
“Chotey loves red, Lavanya. You must wear his favourite colour now.”
Something hadn’t felt right. All day, every time anyone had mentioned Arnav’s name, her stomach had twisted in a strange way.
She had seen him twice, and both times he had blasted someone over the phone. His mood was sour lately, she had begin to notice. He was rude to everyone, to her the most.
And he had never been rude to her. Cold and detached, but never rude..
They had been friends for years. They had so much in common, mainly their work ethics was always in sync. She held him in high regard. He admired her contribution to his company.
Dating each other had seemed the most natural thing to do. It had been convenient at first.
But Khushi had changed it all for her. She spoke of love with stars in her eyes. She spoke of a spark, of passion, of soulmates, of a kind of love that sets the heart and soul on fire.
And she had tried really hard to search for Arnav’s face in the sea of faces, but no matter how much she tried, she felt no flutters or heart-stopping pangs for Arnav.
She had once felt affection and friendship. Now she felt nothing, nothing at all.
With every passing day, Arnav now seemed like a stranger, a stranger with whom she was expected to dream of happily ever after.
The thought made her shudder, and she stared at his initials in her Mehendi. She hadn’t even given it a thought when Anjali had asked the Mehendi lady to write A in the design.
But now, to wear his name felt like a burden.
So, taking a pen, she wrote a L beside it, so it looked like LA and not A.
There was a knock on her door.
It was time for the prayers and then it was time to perhaps sit down and re-think.
The air was festive on the terrace. Women from around the area had gathered. The moon was peeking from behind a cloud. There was cheers. Anjali clapped in joy and smiled when her husband stood in front of her.
As La joined the others on the terrace, she searched for Arnav, shocked by how she barely recognised him in the sea of faces.
It was only when Anjali pointed to the man with his back to the crowd, she realised it was Arnav. And he stood at the distance, gazing up at the moon, wearing that usual glare of anger and arrogance.
She had once found it attractive.
Now it annoyed her.
She had made an effort for him, got dressed in a colour she hated, fasted for him all day, the least he could do was turn and acknowledge her.
But he was stranger. And what was stranger was she was relieved he wasn’t acknowledging her.
Ten minutes later, when Anjali dragged him to face her, Arnav kept his eyes averted. She kept her eyes away too.
This was ridiculous. The thought of them together was ridiculous. How exactly had they ended up like this?
She did her prayers because she wanted to, she wanted love and all the madness that went with falling in love. But she didn’t want Arnav. She never saw his face. She never let him break her fast either. Not that he wanted to either.
“Lavanya,” he said when they had a quiet moment. “Listen…I…”
“I know…”
They stood in front of each other. Like always there was nothing to say. He never offered apology. She never explained herself.
“It is her, isn’t it?” La smiled. She had had her suspicions. Arnav was yet to realise he was in love, she knew.
“I don’t know what it is….but…”
“We need to call this off, ASR….But your Nani…It’s Diwali…I don’t want to ruin the festive mood.”
“I’m sorry Lavanya…I’m messed up myself.”
“But I’m clear in what I want.” She nodded. “And I want you to go.”
Arnav scoffed. She smiled.
“Go.” She pushed him.
“Are you sure?”
“More sure than I’ve been in all my life.”
Arnav finally offered her a smile. He didn’t leave however, he held her in his arms for a comforting hug.
“Go, you silly, the moon is out.” That as when he made a run.
La laughed. Idiot, she thought. But she also sighed. And she slapped her forehead. Her life awaited for her now. But she wanted to enjoy the evening with Anjali and Nani and all the women who had showered her with so much love.
But he wasn’t. And so, she wanted to enjoy her single status for a few more days.
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Back at the temple, Khushi was dizzy from the fasting. How much longer? She stared at the sky. The moon was up, but the cloud wasn’t moving.
Women had began singing prayers in despair. Five more minutes, if the clouds didn’t open, she was going to attack her plate of jalebis.
She was going to need a pile of jalebis tonight. Arnav’s face was all that kept flashing in front of her. Had he and La broken the fast? Were they on the his terrace whispering their love for each other?
But what about all those times when he had gazed at her like she was the only girl in the universe?
Arnav wouldn’t two-time. He wasn’t that kind of a man. But what kind of a man was he?
Your kind of a man, a voice whispered in her head, and she blushed.
As she closed her eyes, she imagined he was there in front of her, admiring her.
Your initial is hidden in my mehendi, she whispered to him. He searched her hands, kissed them. And as he moved closer, Arnavji, she whispered.
“Khushi, the moon is out.” Her sister shook her violently, jerking her out of her day-dream.
Khushi sat up and stared at the sky, her eyes full of tears.
The other women began praying. The married women stood in front of their husbands and held up the sieve.
Khushi and Payal and the other girls worshipped the moon. She never had a name when she thought of a husband. Tonight, her heart was chanting Arnavji.
So what if he didn’t care for her. She loved him. And she wished him all the happiness.
With that she gazed at the moon, held the sieve up and closed her eyes. And as she opened her eyes, she frowned, for at the distance, dressed in a white kurta was Arnav. He was climbing up the temple steps, walking up to her, closer, closer. This was her imagination. Had to be. Arnav in white. It was a joke.
“You fasted?” He asked.
He looked so handsome tonight, so happy, so exhausted too. His hair flew softly in the breeze, and his eyes were dark like liquid honey as they melted into hers.
She was dizzy again, the world spinning around her. Arnavji, she whispered, as her knees caved. She felt his hands around her, and then she felt she was being lifted off the ground. His lips touched her forehead. And then the world went dark.
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Arnav held the frail woman in his arms and gazed at her, his eyes pricking with tears at the state she was in. She looked tired, her eyes were swollen, yet she looked so pretty, like a damsel.
Red, he thought with a chuckle.
As a crowd began to gather, he lifted her in his arms and strode off to a quiet corner. Her sister and family were around perhaps, he couldn’t be bothered to go looking for them.
He wanted a moment with her. And he preferred her like this, sleeping peacefully in his arms, not biting his head off.
Only that she wasn’t sleeping, she had passed out.
He shook her gently.
Arnavji, she whispered. Arnav scoffed, wondering if she was actually chanting his name or if she was just shocked to see he was here.
Why was he here? He had planned on going for a long drive. Somehow he had found himself outside the temple where he knew Khushi was tonight.
Something wasn’t right with him. He was acting out of character from the moment she had crashed in his arms at the Sheesh Mahal.
As she slowly began stirring, he helped her sit and offered her some water. Khushi sipped slowly, and she rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes again.
Arnav wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently. This here, this was where his heart finally found its peace.
He didn’t understand what this connection was, or why he was drawn to her like this. Whatever this was it terrified him. But he also didn’t have it in him to step away from her.
La had been his shield, his excuse, so he could keep Khushi at bay.
But he couldn’t keep her away. He couldn’t breathe without seeing her, without holding her in his arms.
There was no hope for him now. He was doomed. And he didn’t even know what this storm was that was surging inside his heart.
“They are up there,” Khushi whispered softly, her eyes still looking dazed.
“Huh?”
“Maa Baba.” She pointed to two stars high up in the sky. “They are always there, watching over me.”
His sister was superstitious too. And he always scoffed off the idea of his parents having turned in stars and twinkling lights and whatever else.
But tonight, he gazed up, wondering which one of those bright stars was his mother.
“Do you think she’s up there?” He asked. “My Maa?”
“She is.”
“Hmm…” He wanted to believe she was up there too, watching over him.
“I was fifteen,” he whispered, “when Maa…”
“I was ten.”
He tightened his hold around her. Ten, so young, how had she coped? Or had she? He still hadn’t. He still couldn’t bring himself to mourn his parents.
“The moon is so beautiful today,” she said.
“Hmm…My Maa always looked like a goddess on Karvachauth. I miss her.”
“I miss my Amma too.”
Perhaps this shared grief was what had brought them closer.
Khushi slowly sat up, her eyes searching his. “Are you really here?”
“What do you think?”
“I think this is a dream.” She hesitated for a moment before she touched his cheek.
“Are you dreaming of me?”
He chuckled, and he very rarely smiled or chuckled. But this woman made him smile, she made him laugh. She was his Khushi, just like her name.
She poked his cheek with a finger. “This dream is very strange. Arnav Singh Raizada is smiling. He never smiles, Laad Governor kahee ke.”
“Why do you call me that?”
“Laad Governor?”
“Yes.”
“Because you think you own this world.”
“I think?” He raised a brow. “Maybe I just do.”
“Akkad ki dukaan hai aap.”
“And you? You’re not egoistic?”
“I don’t have ego….But I…” she welled. “He must be with Lavanyaji. I wish them well.” With that she rested her head on his chest again and closed her eyes.
“It’s my fault,” she said. “But somethings are beyond my control. And it hurts. It really hurts.”
Arnav held her closer. He had messed it up, he knew, especially when her tears slid the corner of her eyes. Should have never brought La home. Now it seemed he was having a full-blown relationship with La, when they were barely even dating each other.
“Khushi…” he whispered. But what was he going to tell her? He was himself clueless to what all this was. And the only voice ringing in his head was his Di’s, of her giggling and telling him he would one day so hopelessly fall in love, there would be no hope for him.
This wasn’t love. He was Arnav Singh Raizada. And Arnav Singh Raizada couldn’t fall in love. He didn’t believe in love. He didn’t have time for love.
“Khushi,” Payal’s voice drew him out of his thoughts.
She glared at him. He tightened his hold around Khushi.
“Don’t touch my sister.”
“She passed out.” He clenched his jaw.
“Khushi,” Payal shook her.
“Don’t wake her up, she just slept.”
“Arnavji…thanks for looking after her. I’ll take it from here.” Payal’s politeness annoyed him.
“I’m taking her home.” He declared.
“Khushi.” She continued to shake Khushi.
“Don’t wake her up,” Arnav snapped.
“It’s getting late, we need to go home.” Payal argued.
Arnav drew Khushi closer.
“She hasn’t eaten anything, Arnavji…Please.”
He didn’t want to let go of her, besides, she was sleeping. So he carried her again in his arms.
“This is …stop it..people are going to see…They’re going to make stories.”
“I don’t care.”
There was a lot of things he wanted to say, but he reigned back his anger.
“Payal, she’s too weak to walk. I’m parked close by. I’ll drop you both home. I won’t be a trouble, I promise.”
Payal hesitated, but she eventually relented.
She watched him like a hawk as he walked down the steps with Khushi in his arms, as he buckled her seat-belt in place, as he drove them in silence, as he carried her to his bedroom once they reached Buaji’s house.
When he gently laid on her on the bed, Khushi gripped his shirt tightly.
“Khushi, let go,” Payal tugged her hand.
“Careful,” he hissed, and he gently, reluctantly released his shirt out of her name.
Arnavji, she whispered his name again.
Arnav wanted to hold her. He also wanted to run. He wanted to go on a long drive and never come back. He also didn’t want to leave her side.
He had never felt so conflicted in his life.
His feet felt like lead when he got up and stormed out of the house, but he stopped to gaze at her through the window for a few moments, till Buaji rudely shut the curtains at his face.
He deserved it though. He had been rude to her. He had hurt her, made her cry. He had kicked her out of his car even that morning when her father had suffered a stroke.
What the heck had come over him?
Arnav got into his car and he drove around aimlessly. He usually drove off to his mother’s cottage. Tonight, he went round and round and round Buaji’s cottage like a mad man.
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“Arnavji,” Khushi sat up and cried his name. Her sister was beside her, a wet cloth on her head. Her Buaji was shaking her head in despair.
“Arnavji….” She shook her sister. “I saw him….he was there.”
“Khushi…you need to eat.” Payal held a plate.
“No…he was there.” She scrambled out of her bed and ran to the front room. The clock struck nine. She was still in her saree. Her father was lying in the room next to them.
She had imagined it all. Arnav had never come.
When she dragged herself back to her bedroom, Payal gazed at her with pity.
“Haye rey Nandkisore…Jaun marzi kari.” Buaji muttered under her breath and left.
“Jiji, I saw him.”
“Huh!” Khushi froze, for her sister wasn’t pointing to the door, she was pointing to the window next to her bed.
Khushi’s eyes grew wide in horror.
“Who is?”
“I’m hungry,” Payal said, handing her the plate. “The back door is open. The choice is yours.”
“I don’t think he has eaten too,” Payal said before she left.
Khushi hesitated for several minutes. Was he really outside that window? But why?
She arranged her saree, smoothed her hair, drank a glass of water, slowly peeked out of the backdoor, and her heart stopped. Arnav Singh Raizada was indeed slumped on the veranda outside her bedroom, his hair a tousled mess, his face contorted in despair.
Her heart leapt. Why was here? Why with her and not with La?
She took the plate of food and stepped outside. Arnav stiffened. Khushi steadied her heart.
“Arey…aap…yahan?” She chirped.
He shot her an angry glare.
She knew it was best to shut up.
“Hmm…I’m starving,” she chuckled, sitting down beside him. “Whoever invented this ridiculous fasting festival.”
Her silly sense of humour always helped her stay in control. Arnav glared at her.
“And why must we women fast? Men never fast.”
“I’m fasting too.” He growled.
She shot her eyes to him. For Lavanya of course, a voice poked.
“Do you wanna eat?” She asked, not knowing if their simple food rich in ghee and oil and unhealthy yummy things would be too much for rich wealthy Arnav Singh Raizada.
“We make Puri and curried potatoes.” Khushi said.
“My mother used to make them too.”
“Oh!” She broke a piece and waited for him to eat.
“You made them.”
“My Jiji fried the puris just now. I made the potatoes before I went to the temple.”
Arnav nodded. To her surprise, he took a small bite of the potatoes.
“Good?”
“Delicious.” He smiled.
She smiled too.
“You’re a very good cook.” He held her eyes.
That made her heart soar. “More?”
“Please.” He sat up and he ate. They was sitting cross legged on the floor. Arnav Singh Raizada wasn’t a Laad Governor after all.
And Khushi laughed at how he attacked the plate, at how he moaned, at how he licked his fingers. Her sister came over with another large plate of freshly fried puris. Khushi served him the curries, the paneer, the dal, the fried bhindi, and he ate it all.
“This is like how they make at my home.”
“This is how we make at our home.” Khushi smiled, fluttering again that they had a lot more in common that she realised.
“My mother usually made Halwa with puri,” he said.
“That’s halwa.” She held a spoon for him. “It’s diabetic.” And she didn’t know why she had made a diabetic halwa. Or maybe she did. She had cooked because she had wanted to imagine she was having dinner with him. And now, he was really here.
Arnav gazed at her for a moment and then he ate from her hand.
And for reasons Khushi didn’t understand, her eyes pricked with tears.
“Khushi,” he said.
“Hmm…”
Khushi pulled her hand back, her heart skipping wildly in her chest. “Haan…Woh…I asked the lady to write K, she mishead it as A.”
She regretted as soon as she it, for Arnav eyes flared red in anger.
He stared at her hand and he got back to eating, without bothering to look at her again.
“Why are you here, Arnavji?”
“Because I had to make sure you are okay.” Arnav said curtly. “I’m your boss. You’re my responsibility. And if you don’t turn up to work tomorrow, Di will be worried.”
Ah! Professional courtesy.
“Why were you at the temple?” She asked nevertheless.
Arnav narrowed his eyes. “I can come and go as I please. It’s none of your business. I have no reason to explain my actions to you. I came because Di asked me, and then you passed out like you always do.”
He wasn’t here for her, she knew now. She had been a fool to hope he had driven all that distance and come just for her. Her appetite had gone for a toss. She looked up at her stars instead.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
“I don’t like Halwa,” she pouted. She wanted jalebi. She wanted it even more, now that he had burst her little bubble.
To her surprise, Arnav handed her a box.
“Jalebi?” she squealed. “Chandni chowk waley?”
He chuckled as she attacked the box.
“This is the best,” Khushi munched on them, closing her eyes so she didn’t tremble at the way he was gazing at her.
But when Arnav gently took her hand, her heartbeats quickened. He studied the bruise around her wrist.
“Did you fast, for a good husband?”
I fasted for you, she wanted to say.
He gently massaged her wrist, peeked at her, looked away, and when just as her heart began to settle, he lifted her hand and kissed her wrist.
Khushi’s heart stopped. She pulled her hand back. He tightened the hold.
“Arnavji,” she welled.
His phone rang making her jump.
“Di,” he said, as he stood up. Khushi stood up too and followed him to his vehicle.
“What did you pray for?” He asked. “A rich wealthy good man?”
She glared, his words piercing her heart like always.
“I prayed for his happiness,” she said nevertheless. “I prayed for all his dreams to come true.”
Arnav’s eyes softened. “All his dreams?” He asked, in a mocking tone.
“Yes, all his dreams.”
“And what about your dreams.”
Arnav nodded, opened the door to his car, but just before he got in, “Happy…Happy Karwachauth,” he said, pressing something into her hand.
If only after he had driven off, Khushi realised there was a pretty red rose in her hand.
A smile touched her.
Happy Karwarchauth, Arnavji, she whispered watching him till his car disappeared.
Author’s note
It is a short and sweet one. Will he still go ahead and declare his engagement with La. Well, who knows. And even if he does, at least, La knows where is heart is. As of Khushi, at least she has a red rose to hold on to even those it comes with the thorns.
Hope you like it. Thanks for reading.
Lots of Love
Chitra
Happy Karwa Chauth Everyone!
