Eight months later

Like any average morning, Khushi stood behind her stove preparing tea for her family. It was around four and her father had returned from the shop for lunch. And it was time for tea, and to open the shop again. Over the last eight months, her life in Lucknow had returned to the usual routine, with her helping her mother sort breakfast, then running up to the temple for the morning aarti, and then spending all morning at the shop. She usually returned just before lunch to help her mother, and once her father came back from the shop, they had lunch together, like they always had before. 

But, despite always wearing her infectious smile, a part of her was still on the fortieth floor of AR. She had seen him on the telly a few times. He was also back to adorning the Page three of all leading newspapers. His casanova image was the talk the town as always. And she’d sometimes wondered what he’d meant by making their relationship official all those months ago. But she’d never know the answer to that question. 

Over the eight months neither had contacted. She had almost messaged him a few times, but her pride had got into the way. If he didn’t want her, she didn’t want him too, she’d decided. Yet, what was she meant to do with the heart that ached almost all the time. 

“Khushi.” Her sister’s panicked voice, made her snap her head over her shoulder. 

Four weeks after having returned from Delhi, Payal and Dhananjay had married. His family business had failed, and they were genuinely having financial crisis. While her Babuji had struggled to find ways to help them, to her surprise Aryaman had stepped in to help Dhananjay’s family business. He had not just made a handsome investment, but had also ensured the business grew thanks to the references he was able to offer. 

With that sorted, Payal had found her happiness in the man she’d been destined to marry. Although there had been reservations about Dhananjay at first, he’d proven to be a loving and caring husband. And Payal was fourteen weeks pregnant now, and was spending a few days with Khushi and her parents. But every squeak and hiss she made sent everyone in the family on a panic attack. 

“Kya hua…is the baby okay.” Khushi gasped.

“Naniji, and Anjaliji are outside the door.” Payal widened her eyes.

Khushi dropped the strainer in her hand, and blinked. Her entire being burst into flames, and she wanted to break into a sob.  

“There’s a black BMW parked outside.”

With her heart leaping in her chest, she washed her hand, and smoothed her hair. Arnavji, her heart whispered, and tears pricked her eyes. He was here, finally. 

Reaching for her dupatta, she ran out of the kitchen, and into the lounge, waiting in desperation for her father opened the door. Her Babuji stood frozen for a moment, confused at what was going on.

But Payal brushed past Khushi, and to the door.

“Please come in.” She folded her hands, while explaining to her father who the elderly lady was. As Payal spoke to Nani, Khushi smiled to see Anjali had come too, carrying a large plate covered in a red velvet cloth in her hand, along with a tiny baby in her arms. She still wore her sindoor, she noted, although she had read in the papers that she’d been divorced from her husband. 

But her heart began pounding, and she ran to the window, to catch a glimpse of her man. It had been so long since she’d seen Arnav, that she didn’t know what she’d do with herself when they’d come face-to-face with each other. 

But when the door remained locked, and she couldn’t make out the silhouette of the man inside, she ran back into the kitchen, to get a better view from the kitchen. 

Opening the door, she stepped outside, and waited. One of the Prakash brothers got out, and began removing some more boxes. But as the door opened, and her gaze fell on a polished pair of expensive shoes, her heart stopped. The sun was in her eyes, and she lifted her hand to her shield her eyes. Her heart leapt in joy, waiting for him to step outside. But the moment the man stepped up, her heart came to a painful halt. Tears blurred her vision. And a familiar hollow settled in her belly.

Standing in front of her was Aryaman Sinha. And despite being hidden behind the kitchen door, his gaze caught hers, and he gave her a low bow. She waited, hoping there were more people in the car. But as Aryaman shut the door, and stepped away, her heart fell into a dreadful gloom. Arnav had never returned for her. And perhaps he never would, it finally dawned upon her.

Aryaman stood facing her for a few beats. True to his word, over the past eight months he had barely contacted her. He had however helped her father secure a few contracts that had helped them clear a fair share of their debts. They had spoken a few times, but whenever they had, he’d always been friendly and cordial, and had never brought up his proposal. But now as she watched the number of baskets and platters entering her house, dread gathered in her belly, and she knew why he was her. 

Pointing towards the door, he gave her his usual charming smile. He hadn’t changed, she noted. On the contrary, dressed in a pair of formal grey slacks and a baby blue button down shirt, he looked way more dashing than she remembered. His unruly curly hair blowed in the cool evening wind. And although his eyes were hidden behind his shades, his smile reached his ears, holding her in awe. 

“Khushi, they’re waiting.” Her sister’s voice came through, snapping her out of trance.

“Jee.” She closed the door and stepped inside. 

“You need to change into a saree.” Payal grinned.

But Khushi held her gaze in her tearful eyes for a few beats, and finally threw herself into her sister’s arms and broke into a sob. 

“Khushi, chalo, be practical.” Payal stroked her hair. “This is real life. Not a fairy tale. And ab look at me…I am happy too with my decision, and wouldn’t change it for the world.”

As Khushi wiped her tears and gazed at her sister, she found Payal stroking her tiny bump fondly.

“Come now. Change.” 

She nodded, allowing her sister to lead her from the kitchen to the bedroom. But as she sat in front of the mirror, and her sister brought out a yellow saree, she shook her head. Yellow, and red, were two colours she’d reserved only for him. Blue, she decided. She’d always seen Aryaman wear a blue. She didn’t know if blue was his favourite colour of not. But that was the colour she’d wear for him this evening. 

__

With her dupatta balanced on her head, Khushi nervously held the tray of tea, and waited for the guests to help themselves. She had never been in this kind of a situation. Thankfully she knew everyone very well, which should have made her relax, but instead, she felt so shaky, she almost dropped the tray by the time she reached Aryaman. 

But he was quick to catch the tray and the tea. Her eyes met with his, and his smiled. Just moments ago, she’d been tearing up that Arnav hadn’t come for her. But given how warm Aryaman’s gaze was, she couldn’t help the flutter in her heart. It felt wrong. Like she was cheating upon Arnav. But Arnav hadn’t come, and now that Aryaman was here, she smiled ruefully at where life had yet again trapped her. 

“We are here to officially ask for Khushi bitiya’s hand for our Aryaman,” Naniji spoke on his behalf. The fact he’d invited Nani and Anjali to speak on his behalf warmed Khushi’s heart. She had expected this kind of a gesture from Arnav, but flicking her eyes to Aryaman, who still had his gaze resting in her, she smiled, thankful to him for showering her family with the respect they deserved.

“I’ve had the good fortune to have spoken to Aryamanji over the last few months.” Her father replied, welling with tears. “He has helped us through a lot. And now its an honour to learn that you are all here to ask for our Khushi for him.”

Khushi glanced at father, and smiled. She had shared everything that had happened over the few weeks in Delhi with her father. Although she’d mentioned Aryaman, her father too had silently hoped for Arnav to come for her. And gazing at her Babuji, she knew he too was welling that it was Aryaman and not Arnav who was here for her. But perhaps this was the destiny her Devi Maiyya had decided for her.

“If Khushi bitiya is willing, we have no issues,” her father finally declared.

Every eye turned to Khushi, and she blinked. She had never given this proposal a thought. And now that suddenly the spot-light was upon her, she didn’t know what to say.

“May I please speak with her alone?” Thankfully Aryaman came to her rescue, taking the pressure off her.

“Yes, of course.” Shashi nodded.

Payal led them both to the closed verandah to one side of the house. It was a family area where they’d all sit together in the evening, and laugh and chat while sipping on the tea. Since it was covered, and enclosed on all sides, with large doors to one side that could be opened out onto the lawn, it was the most ideal place to spend lazy afternoons, enjoying the outdoors while still having their privacy. 

“After you, Khushi.” 

As she waited Aryaman to take a seat, he motioned for her to sit. 

Sitting on the cane chair opposite her, Aryaman leaned back and smiled. Despite the suddenness of this visit, and the abrupt proposal, she felt incredibly comfortable with him.

“As promised, I’ve cleared all convictions against me.” He spoke first.

She knew that. A few weeks ago, he had called her to inform the court had passed judgment in his favour. Although she had congratulated him at that time, since he hadn’t mentioned anything about the proposal, she’d assumed he’d forgotten about it. 

“Here is a copy of the decree.”

“Aryamanji, I don’t need it.” She felt thoroughly embarrassed, but touched too.

Putting away the file, he held her gaze, and smiled. “So, how have you been, Khushi?”

“Good.” She smiled. 

“Thank you. For keeping your promise, and for waiting for me.”

She nodded, but she hadn’t done any of that. Although she had mentioned Aryaman’s proposal to her father, they had all been waiting for Arnav to eventually turn up for her. 

“What is your answer, Khushi?”

“Aryamanji..”

“I am willing to take your father’s permission and date you officially,” he offered. “Take your time to think about it…..there’s no rush. Although eight months should have been a reasonable time to think over this matter.”

Khushi smiled ruefully. If only she’d been able to think over this matter. If only she’d been able to stop thinking about Arnav. 

As she lifted her eyes to him, she wanted to tell him about her brief encounter with Arnav, hoping it would send him packing. But a part of her stopped her from doing so. There had never been anything between her and Arnav. Aryaman on the other hand had kept his promise. He had not just helped her family over the months, and proved himself innocent. He had also officially brought home a proposal. It was time to get her head out of the clouds and get practical. He hadn’t asked for dowry, or made any unreasonable demands from her family. He was warm, and caring, and so respectful of her. He was everything any girl could have ever asked for. And he was here for her.

But he wasn’t Arnav. 

As she clenched her eyes shut, and took a deep breath, Aryaman sighed. “You look exactly like how you did that evening when I promised I’d come for you. In fact, you look prettier now.”

She chuckled, and flicked her eyes to him. “I am happy here. With my parents.”

“I can see that.” He nodded. 

“How’s your mother?” she asked.

“Better, thank you.” He smiled. “She has been enquiring about you though. And I have promised her I’d be taking you to meet her soon.”

“I’d love to meet her again.”

“As my wife, Khushi.” He was curt. “You shall only meet her again as my wife, I’ve vowed to myself.”

“Aryamanji..” She shook her head.

“What do you want from me, Khushi?” he asked. “Do you want me to woo you? Do you want me to date you? Or is it just a case of me not being the man for you?”

As Khushi blinked, he shrugged. “Whatever your decision, I’ll accept.”

Khushi knotted the edge of her saree, not knowing how to explain herself. Not knowing how to tell him it was none of the above. That he wasn’t the one she’d been waiting for. And the man she was waiting for was perhaps never coming for her.

“Are you not ready for marriage?”

“No,” she choked. “Its not…”

“Have I embarrassed you by turning up out of the blue?”

“No, Aryamanji, if anything you’ve been honorable.”

“Is there anything you wish to ask me?”

“Whatever my decision, will we continue to remain…..”

“Friends? Yes.” He nodded.

“Will I be able to meet my parents?” Her tears fell at the thought of leaving her parents.

“Of course.” He sighed. “Gosh, Khushi. Who do you think I am? Besides I don’t have any family myself, and hope to become a part of your family.”

She laughed, sniffling her tears. Her gaze flickered all over him, and she wanted to make a sensible decision for once. Him accepting her family was perhaps what had finally earned that special place she’d only reserved for a few few.

“What’s your favourite colour, Aryamanji?”

His eyes flickered all over her, and he smiled. “Blue.”

“Will it be okay if we had a simple wedding?”

“Will it be okay if I paid for the wedding expenses?”

“You will have to speak to my father about that.” She smiled.

Aryaman nodded, but Khushi lifted the cup of tea to him. “Was the tea good?”

“Perfect.”

“Is there anything you wish to ask me?” she asked.

“Why isn’t your smile reaching your eyes anymore, my Bella?”

Khushi stopped for a beat, but her eyes pricked with tears. “I’ve lost that child-like innocence I had before, Aryaman,” she choked.

Maybe she’d lost it on the streets of Delhi in Kabootar galli as Arnav had caught her a pigeon promising to bring her a peacock, or perhaps in his loft as she’d foolishly worn his briefs, or perhaps a part of her was still there, sitting upon her desk, opposite him, which made her wonder if her desk was still in Arnav’s office. Or maybe she was there lying within his armspan, as he’d spooned her on his sofa the night before the morning when she’d run from him.

“What is it, Khushi?”

“I’m tired of waiting, Aryamanji,” she sighed. “I sometimes feel I’m on top of a boat that keeps rocking. And no matter how hard I row, the shore keeps slipping away from me.”

“Try reaching a different shore then, Khushi,” he suggested.

“Some journeys are meant to take us to a completely different place than the one we intended to go to,” he added, making Khushi frown. 

“Years ago, I was meant to go to scotland, but due to bad weather, we landed in Iceland.” He laughed. “I’d have never ever visited Iceland. But honestly it was one holiday I’d never forget.”

“Is it beautiful?”

“Stunning.” He sighed.

“Is it full of ice?” she asked in awe. 

Aryaman laughed. “It has a lot of ice. But it has beautiful lakes, beaches, and stunning landscapes too.” 

“Wow.”

“Would you like to go to Iceland, Khushi?” He held her gaze. “ With me? For our honeymoon.”

Her heart fluttered. Honeymoon, the word sounded so sweet. But would it have any heart to it? But it was no longer about the heart. It was about getting real.

“Can I make a request?” she asked.

“Anything.”

“I don’t want you to date me…..but after we marry, I’d want us to get to know each other before we…” Lowering her gaze, she bit into her lip. 

“So, its a yes?” He smirked. 

As she flicked her eyes to him, she almost protested, but couldn’t help blush.

“We will date after we marry….its a promise.” He nodded. “We will wait, till you are ready.” He added. “And now if you are happy, shall we go back inside, and inform the others about your decision.”

“Yes.” She smiled, taking his hand. “Yes.”

___

A month later, Khushi found herself sitting beside Aryaman in front of a Havan. It was a cool evening. And the flames of the Havan heated the chilly air. The lehenga was exactly like how she’d imagined. Red, with intricately embroidered design in gold, and it was studded with pearls. At first as she’d grazed her hand across the dress, her heart had fluttered at how beautiful it was. And for Aryaman to have had pearls studded in the design had warmed her heart. That was till she had turned the label, and her heart had stopped to find a note stuck inside the inner flap. 

To the most beautiful bride ever, Alex had written for her. May you have all the happiness in the world. It was his wedding present to her. And it had made her sob.

Her hands were adorned with the intricate twirls of Mehendi. But every time she turned her palm, her heart stopped to find an “A” in her mehendi. Closing her eyes, she wanted to float away in the fantasy of being married to the A of the man she had given her heart to.

“Its time for pheras.” She shot her eyes open at the priests words, and glanced to her side, and reality crashed upon her as soon as Aryaman’s warm brown gaze caught with hers, and he held his hand for her to take.

As she glanced back, she smiled to find Anjali tying the knot to their duppattas. Tears pricked her eyes. Everything was exactly like she’d always imagined her wedding to be. In fact, it was better than what she could have ever imagined. Their house was decked like a bride in strings of lights, and flowers. The entire courtyard had been covered with a canopy. The alter upon which the wedding was being performed was erected with fake pillars decorated with pink, white and red roses. Even the music on the loudspeakers were a playlist of all of her favourite Salman Khan songs. 

While her parents sat to one side, and her mother gazed at her with love, her father welled with tears in his eyes. Her sister and her husband too sat another side, smiling at her and wishing her all the happiness in the world. Aryaman’s mother too sat beside him, wishing them both well.

And as she shifted her gaze to Aryaman, she smiled. Love, she didn’t know. But there was a lot of respect in this marriage. 

And that was all that mattered to her. 

Yet, what was she meant to do with that part of her that kept gazing at the entrance, waiting for that one man to make his entrance, and to whisk her away to a far far land, out beyond right and wrong that he’d once promised. 

As she stood up, and arranged her lehenga, a part of her wanted to run. From this marriage, this man, this mandap. Yet, she found herself placing her hand into Aryaman’s, and following him around the fire. Flowers were being showered, the air was filled with soothing music, and the priests continued chanting. But her eyes kept flicking to the main gate. 

As she was asked to walk ahead of Aryaman on the fourth phera, she stopped. A tiny voice continued to urge her to grab her lehenga and run. Perhaps he was there, standing outside the walls of the building. Perhaps at the station. Perhaps in his loft. 

Just run, Khushi. The girl she used to be urged at her, begged, pleaded with her. Run, follow your heart. Go find him. Go throw yourself into his arms and beg him to take you back.

But as her gaze fell on her father’s glistening eyes, reality struck her. Lowering her head, she put on step in front of another, and continued walking forward even after the pheras had come to an end. 

The moment her dupatta tugged with Aryaman’s she snapped out of her trance, and glanced over her shoulder. Mortified at what she’d done, she looked around. While some widened their eyes, and others laughed between themselves, she shot her tearful eyes to Aryaman worried he’d be angry, but frowned when he smiled at her. 

“We can keep going, Khushi,” he whispered. “Lets just take the vows for the next life too.” 

Relief swept through her to find him smiling, and not angry.

“Sorry.” She stepped back. But couldn’t help keep her gaze on him. Something between a smile and a smirk touched his mouth, and she raised her brow, and wondered why. 

“You are my wife now,” he whispered as she slowly sat down. Khushi’s stomach tumbled, and she widened her eyes. Of course she was. The pheras were done with. 

But from the corner of her eyes, the moment she watched the priest hold a platter for Aryaman,  her tears rose, and she sat motionless, as Aryaman lifted the mangalsutra, and held it up for her. Her gaze flickered from the delicate necklace, to his eyes. It was a stunning piece of jewellery. Simple, yet elegant, with a single heart shaped diamond hanging from the centre. There was so much heart to the gesture, she felt like a cheater in that moment. 

His gaze remained upon her for a beat, and then he leaned closer to place the necklace around her. Khushi closed her eyes, as he fastened it behind her neck amidst a shower of rose petals. Everyone clapped, and cheered. 

As her tears fell, she then watched him pinch the sindoor from the vial. Lifting aside the maang teeka adorning her parting, he filled her parting, while gazing at her with all the love in his heart.

Flowers showered all over them, and people laughed and clapped. But tears were all Khushi had in that moment, now knowing there was no running anymore. This was her life. Her choice. Her decision. Her destiny. As her eyes lifted to Aryaman, she found him holding her eyes with such love, guilt burned through her. She didn’t know if she could ever love him back. But she would devote herself to him, she vowed.

“My wife,” his eyes glistened as he whispered. 

“Your wife,” she breathed back the word, finding it rather alien sounding. 

But she forced a smile, and waited for her parents to touch her head, and her sister too to hold her hand, and caress her cheek.

__

“Although this is a present from all of us Raizada’s.” Handing her a jewellery box, Anjali giggled from behind. “Chotey had it specially ordered for you.” 

Khushi’s heart stopped, and she flicked her eyes to a grinning Anjali, and to her husband next. Once he gave her a nod, she took the box. 

“Open it and tell me what you think of it, Khushiji,” Anjali urged. 

With shaky hands, Khushi slowly flicked it open. For him to have spent his precious time and money upon her wedding present made his message clear. He had long let go of her. And here, like an absolute fool, she’d been hoping he’d come for her.

But the moment she flipped the box open, a gasped escaped her lips, and she muffled back a sob. 

“Exceptional.” Aryaman sighed. 

But Khushi touched the stunning necklace he’d presented her. Woven with pearls, and strung together with tens of diamonds, it was a choker that was so exquisite, she didn’t know how much it must have cost him. 

“I can’t….” She breathed.

“Its our wedding present to you, Khushiji. Chotey was telling pearls are your favourite.” Reaching for the necklace, Anjali offered to put it on her. Although Khushi gulped a few breaths, she found her heart fluttering to wear his necklace. She was messed up, she knew. But she just wanted to feel the pearls against her skin, given there was not one pearl in her bridal jewellery. Or perhaps she wanted a part of him against her skin. And she closed her eyes, imagining his fingers flicking against the pearls of the necklace, and was transported back in time to that night at the Sheesh Mahal when she had crashed into his arms for the first time. 

Once in place, Khushi touched her hand to the necklace, and her tears escaped, as she smiled weakly for Anjali, as she clicked a picture of hers.

“You love pearls?” Aryaman asked, his warm gaze holding hers.

As Khushi nodded, he brushed his hand to the pearls in the necklace and whispered, “Sorry I got you diamonds.”

Although her fingers flicked the pearls, Khushi smiled back at him. “Diamonds are growing on me….I want to see myself only in diamonds henceforth.”

Their gaze met, as his darkened, she smiled ruefully.

___

Just outside the compound, leaning back in his car, Arnav kept his eyes closed. Tears poured down his face, and the claps and cheers stopped his heart. He had hoped, wished she’d run for him. All she’d had to do was run to the entrance, and he’d have taken it from there. 

But it had never meant anything to her, he realised. For eight months he’d waited, hoping she’d see the light of day and at least contact him once. Just one hello would have made him span the continents and reach out to her. But if there had never been any attachment from her end, he’d been a fool to have laid his heart at her feet. 

Marriage, he laughed, she was practically married to a stranger now. And she’d sleep with a stranger too. But that was acceptable given it was marriage. And his need to get to know each other, and to make their relationship public had sounded like a scandal.

 The middle-class had never made any sense to him anyways. As he threw a glance towards the venue, a wistful smile touched his lips. And he thought of the afternoon when Khushi had mentioned how she’d dreamt of marrying from their family home. He also remembered how he’d vowed to give her the wedding of her dreams. But if she wasn’t willing to take one step towards him, and willing to fight for him, he’d not fight too he had long resolved. It was all a matter of faith for him. And she clearly didn’t have enough faith in him. And now he’d not shed tears for her, he promised himself. 

Yet, from between the drapes, as his gaze fell on the beautiful girl, who was now being led to the dias, he gripped the steering and sat up. His phone buzzed just in the same time. 

As he clicked the message his sister had sent him, a sob escaped his lips to find Khushi’s face smile back at him. Her eyes were tear-filled, but her parting was glittering with Sindoor. Not his, but Aryaman’s Sindoor.

She was another man’s wife now.

She was no longer his.

Yet, running his finger against her pretty face, he sighed at how beautiful she looked, and then touched the necklace he’d specially made for her. She should have belonged to him. She was his, or so he’d long convinced himself. Perhaps it was a delusion he’d allowed himself. She was never his. Never at all.

“I love you, my song bird….and I wish you all the happiness in the world.” Touching the phone to his lips, he finally broke into a long loud sob.

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Author’s note

Right, as you can all see, this is no parody. This is reality. And it is hearfelt too. And you can see why I love from Aryaman. 

Hope you like this take. For me, this honestly is my favourite story. Better than SMA, but then I love tragedies. HEHE! 

Love Chitra