Chapter 53

Thank you for your continued love and sorry for not responding to each and every one of the comments individually. I did read all of them though and they truly made my day. It isn't every day that a newbie writer gets so much love and affection.

New readers welcome aboard. Now without further ado, onto the next chapter.

Chapter 49

Arnav Singh Raizada blew hard a ring of smoke into the dark and cold night. He was standing, all alone, in the courtyard of the hotel. Clad in a charcoal gray Versace winter long coat embellished with black geometric motifs and a black Burberry classic cashmere check scarf, ASR's mind was constantly going back to the conversation he had accidentally overheard - the one between Khushi Kumari Gupta and whom his instinct described as Aman Bansal's mother Lata.

"Hello Lata Aunty," the voice had crooned, making him cringe from within. He wanted to forget Khushi Kumari Gupta, forget that he ever encountered her in his life, rewind his life to the fashion show and play things differently. He didn't want to hear any more sugar-coated conversations that took place between this wonderful daughter-in-law and her would-be mother-in-law. He had to grudgingly admit that Khushi would make a wonderful daughter-in-law and a wonderful wife. The thought made him angry. He banged his fist on his desk, rattling the contents in the process. He wanted to break something, he wanted to cause bodily harm. And because he didn't want any more destruction than what already ensued, he decided to go out for a smoke. Arnav Singh Raizada didn't smoke, except when he felt helpless.

The balcony door was open and the wind had a slight chill to it. He donned his coat and scarf and just as he was about to open the door and step out he heard Khushi's unmistakable timbre.

"Yes Aunty, I am aware of the confusion. I'm not sure what happened, but I wanted to let you know that all of this is one giant misunderstanding."

He stopped. He didn't want to eavesdrop. And yet he did. Just this one time. He put his ear to the thick mahogany door to hear her better. "I understand Aunty, and I want you to know that this is in no way Aman's fault."

A pause.

"I know you're extremely angry and rightfully so. Things have gotten too far. All I am trying to ensure is that they don't go any further. I apologize on behalf of my family and I hope you're truly able to forgive us. Please don't hold this against Aman."

Another pause.

"Aman is a great friend Aunty, and he has been there for me during some very difficult times. I value his place in my life as a friend, but that's really all we are. Nothing more."

A bigger pause.

"I do."

Yet another pause.

"My family doesn't know about him as yet."

The pauses were beginning to irk ASR. He wanted to go out, shake the living daylights out of her and ask her to fill in the blanks. But he stood silently behind the door waiting for the conversation to get over.

"Thank you, Aunty, for understanding. I'll let Aman know that you wished to speak with him."

The sound of muffled footsteps indicated that she had moved away. He opened the door and stepped out, and his eye spotted a beautiful golden charm bracelet on the carpet in front of him. He knew whom the bracelet belonged to. He had seen her fidget with it many times. He picked it up and put it in his pocket, then proceeded to go outside to do what he intended.

*****

The lights were off in Aman Bansal's room. The TV was on. And on TV Dharmendra was busy telling his lady love, "Basanti, in kutton ke saamne mat nachna."

With two bowls of popcorn on their respective lap, cozily wrapped around a blanket, Aman and Khushi were busy watching the Bollywood classic Sholay, or so it would seem. Khushi's mind was obviously elsewhere. Half an hour later, the movie ended, lights came on and Khushi bid Aman good night to make her way to her room.

"Khushi," Aman called out just as she was about to step out. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing. Just tired."

"Give me a little more credit Khushi. Even I know there is something that is eating into your peace of mind."

"Aman, what do you do when the person you believe you love doesn't return the sentiment?"

Aman dragged her back to the sofa and propped himself near the kitchenette to make two cups of tea.

"Stop talking in riddles Khushi and tell me what is going on in that head of yours, clearly and succinctly."

Khushi flopped her arms around like a child and began fidgeting with the chain around her neck.

"Aman, my life's a mess. It might have just been easier if I had been in love with you."

He came, with the tea in his hand, and said, "Are you not?"

She playfully hit him on his arm. "Aman, thank you for everything, but even you know that we are just friends. I've explained the situation to your mother but how do I tell my family? And I know what Buaji will say. She will tell me that you're a good guy, which you are, and that love can always happen after marriage, which it can. Then when I'm quiet, she will ask me if there is someone else in my life. I don't want to lie and I can't tell her the truth. No one will take me seriously."

"What is the truth Khushi?"

"That I love ASR."

"Do you? Do you really love ASR? Or did you fall in love with Arnav?"

"What's the difference?"

"ASR was the one who kept you locked in the room for 48 hours. ASR was the person who arm-twisted you into accepting that demeaning contract. ASR is the one with no scruples and morals. But Arnav? Arnav is your mentor, who gave you the opportunity to shine in your spotlight. Arnav is who taught you tricks of the trade, encouraged you to exercise your imagination. Arnav is who stopped ASR from ruining you for life. So tell me again, who are you in love with - ASR or Arnav?"

"Arnav," she whispered, the name spoken with a certain longing and reverence. "But its all pointless, he will never think of me like that. All of this is just wishful thinking. Maybe Buaji is right, I should get married to you."

"And be miserable all your life? That won't be fair to both of us. Look, I'm not saying I don't like you but a marriage that is not based on mutual love and admiration soon becomes a burden. I wouldn't want to lose a great friend, simply because we tried to turn this relationship into something it never really was."

"What do I do Aman?"

"Figure out how you're going to set the Arnav within ASR free. That's your challenge," he said, taking a sip of his tea.

"Then I'm going to die single!", sighed Khushi raising her arms to her forehead in a melodramatic fashion.

"Drama queen", muttered Aman, but a faint hint of a smile was beginning to grace his lips.

*****

It was 2.30 in the morning when the loud ringing of her cell phone woke Anjali up. She answered it without looking at the name.

"Hello", she said, her voice heavy with sleep.

"Di. I need some help."

"Chhote?"

"Yes, Di," his voice sounded exasperated and confused.

"What is it?" she got up to move away from the bed, to avoid disturbing Shyam. "Anything urgent?"

"Di...," unable to string a coherent sentence that would truly reflect the battle that was raging within him.

"Go on", she prodded gently. "I'm listening."

"Di, how confident are you about the news you gave me about Khushi and Aman?"

"Lata Aunty called me herself, Chhote."

"And what if Lata Aunty was wrong? What if she didn't know?"

"Chhote, its 2.30 am in India here. I was sleeping. Did you wake me up to discuss Aman and Khushi's love story? Don't you have something better to focus on, like working on your grand launch? What's with you? I've never seen you so distracted since..."

Anjali didn't need to complete the sentence. They both knew what she was referring to. Arnav had a very tough time coping with his parents' death, especially the loss of his mother. He would often be restless, refusing food for prolonged periods, moving around the house aimlessly and staring into blank space. Doctors had warned he was slowly slipping into depression and if something wasn't done sooner to help him, they would lose him to it.

That was when 19-year old Anjali decided that nothing short of a change of scene would help him and put her foot down to have him educated in the USA. It worked. Arnav focused on his education and later on building his business. He had made a lifelong friend in Aman Bansal.

The distance meant the siblings drifted apart a bit, but pragmatic Anjali was always thankful that she had a brother who was well and alive. She shuddered to think of what could have happened otherwise. She couldn't afford to lose him. After all, he was all she had left in the name of a family.

"Chhote, Shyam and I were planning to get there for Friday, but I'll try and see if we can change the tickets to be there for tomorrow."

"Thanks, Di," Arnav exhaled. "Thank you for this, for being there for me always, for everything."

When Anjali returned to the bed, she realized her absence had woken Shyam up.

"Anything serious?," he inquired, looking at his wife's lost demeanor.

"Chhote is lost again."

"Again?"

"Yes, he was talking in riddles. The last time he did this was when our parents died." Anjali's eyes were moist and Shyam could sense the fear that was beginning to grip his wife's heart. He got up, walked up to her and gave her a hug.

"You're not going to lose Chhote, Anjali. You're going to get him back."

"What do you mean?," she looked at him confused, unable to fathom his meaning, unwilling to rely on his reassurance. After all, he wasn't there when the siblings went through it all, the last time it happened.

"You will be losing ASR though!"

"Don't scare me Shyam. Talk plainly, if you must."

"Anjali, we need to advance our tickets." Shyam held onto his wife's shoulders to reassure her. "There is a huge battle going on between ASR and Arnav. And Arnav really needs our help right now."

"Why?"

"Because only when ASR goes away, will your wish really come true, will you truly have your Chhote back."

"And what if it isn't that way?"

"That's why we need to meddle. Losing is not an option for anyone."