Chapter 9

ShikhaKhushi

@ShikhaKhushi

She shifted her startled eyes on him briefly and nodded. He let her lead the way, observing her. She seemed to be doing fine. But that was just on the surface. What could be going on inside?

"Yeh boys' dormitory hai," he heard her mumble uneasily. "Aapka kamra yahin hoga, Akaash aapko dikha dega. Girls's dormitory uss taraf hai. Vahaan main building mein din ki classes hongi aur-" (That's the boys' dormitory. Your room will be here, Akaash will show you. The girls' dormitory is over there. The classes will be held in the main building there and-)

"What are you doing here?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

She froze under his gaze and turned red before continuing as if he had never spoken. "Aur hum sab-" (And all of us-)

"Khushi, maine tumse kuchh poochha hai, answer me." He stepped ahead to stand right before her. She was staring down at the ground. "Khushi? Maine tumse ghar jaane ko kaha tha. Tum yaahan kya kar rahi ho?" (Khushi, I asked you something, answer me. Khushi? I had told you to go home. What are you doing here?)

When she looked up at him, her eyes were brimmed with unshed tears. "Hum ghar gaye the. Phir yahaan chale aaye." (I went home. Then I came here.)

"Why?"

"Aap yahaan kyun hain?" she demanded brusquely. (Why are you here?)

Arnav froze, not quite knowing what to say to that. "Tumhaare har savaal ka javaab dena main zarrori nahin samajhta." He had bitten the words out without reviewing their politeness quotient. (It's not necessary that I should answer all of your questions.)

A sudden hardness glazed over her eyes. Something he swore he had never seen in this girl before, and truthfully, he couldn't have imagined it on her either. This was more of a reaction he would attribute to himself.

"To hum bhi apko yahi javaab mein de sakte hain, Mr Raizada." (I can give you the same reply, Mr Raizada.)

***

His gaze remained fixated on her all night during the orientation hour. The children - around half a hundred or so - were gathered around a campfire while Mrs Briganza explained the rules loudly. Then, the volunteers presented themselves. He had completely hated it and he had been pitiful at it.

After her unexpectedly harsh response to him that afternoon, they had continued the tour with her concise explanations and his complete silence, after which she had handed him over to Akaash and left. He had annoyed her with his questions and reticence. He knew she shouldn't have spoken to her that way; it would not help him to break that shell, that had suddenly become prominent in the moment of her slight aggressiveness, off her.

But what could he? Bad habits die hard...

***

A sharp nudge in the ribs shook her out of her thoughts. Khushi glared at Lavanya, who was smirking at her teasingly.

"Who is he?" the girl demanded.

Khushi frowned. "Who?"

"The one who is looking at you like he wants to eat you?" Adiilah butted in, causing La to giggle.

Stunned, Khushi looked around. Her eyes collided with a familiar mahogany gaze that burned it way inside her within the nano-second of contact. She looked away, flushing and praying the colour of her face would not be seen because of the dark.

"Voh... He's the new intern..." she choked.

Adiilah narrowed her eyes. "Lekin voh tumhein pehle se jaanta hai?" (But he know you from before?)

"Kissne kaha?" Khushi squeaked. (Who said that?)

"Saaf saaf dikhta hai, Chamkili!" Lavanya drawled, swinging her legs. (It sees, Chamkili!)

Khushi sighed. "Hum unke kaam kiya karte the." (I used to work for him.)

One by one, the children were making their own introductions. Any minute now, Manorama would command everyone to bed, and when she finally did, Khushi was the first to get to her feet and start herding the girls away, thankful to her Devi Maiyya.

***

"Who wants pancakes?"

Khushi's outfit: http://i1148.photobucket.com/albums/o573/ShikhaKhushi/985023856201_zps0d5afc91.png

Her cheerful tone brought a small smile to his lips, which he expertly dissimulated while reaching out for the jug of black coffee.

"Uss mein shakkar hai!" (That has sugar in it!)

He paused, his hand already closed around the handle, to find her with his eyes. She was red. Every inch of her exposed skin had turned red and she was biting on her lower in embarrassment. A corner of his mind whirred with the thought that each little bit of her body might actually have turned this delicious shade of crimson. How he wished he could tear off those offending pieces of clothes from her, free that lip from between her teeth and sink his own teeth in that plumpness.

But another, saner part of his mind pushed up his left eyebrow, under which he bore a mystifying scar from his bad years. So, Khushi Gupta remembered how he took his coffee? Black and without sugar. He didn't like sugar in his coffee, it just ruined the taste of it.

"Uss mein shakkar hai," she repeated nervously, turning redder. "Hum aapke doosri banaate hain." (That has sugar. I'll make another one for you.)

She flew out of the dining room into the kitchen. Arnav got to his feet as soon as people had stopped looking at him and followed her. He found the girl nibbling on her thumb like a hunger-striken person. She didn't stop when she saw him, either. Instead, the intensity, along with the width of her eyes, increased by staggering amounts.

He stopped near her, wondering why she got so nervous around him. His hand found hers, the one she was brutalising, and clasped it. Again, the insane corner of his mind reeled at the image of her finger being replaced by his skin. What would it feel like?

Taking a deep breath to calm his disorderly thoughts, he pulled her thumb out of it misery, his eyes dark and hooded. "Pagal ho tum," he snarled. (You are mad.)

She snapped brutally, quicker than he could have imagined, and he saw that viciousness fill up her eyes again, making them cold. "Uss din hum suicidal the, aaj pagal hain. Kuchh aur baaki reh gaya hai?" (That day I was suicidal, today I am mad. Is there anything left?)

Arnav felt himself frown. These abrupt, least expected mood swings were not a good sign. He opened his mouth but she had already snatched her wrist away. "Aapki coffee taiyyaar ha," she added drily, pushing a mug towards him. (Your coffee is ready.)

Then, she was gone and he was left alone there, pondering on her. This was bad, really bad. She was turning into him. He closed his eyes in a hopeless attempt to block out the memories he had managed to lock for years. But there was no way to stop a volcano in mid-eruption. He could still remember those instances of blinding rage, caused by flashes of things he wanted to erase from his memory. The rising rebellion in himself that had ended up making him run away from everything...

His eyes opened, hard with determination. She could not turn into the monster he was already...

***

She stood in the middle of her room, her jaws clenched together, her fists fraying her dupatta. She took deep breaths, trying to calm her rage. What was happening to her? She felt like screaming out her pent up frustration. But she was not frustrated. Or was she?

No. Of course she wasn't. Why would she be? It couldn't be because of her identity, could it? she had been dealing with the whole of it for months now. Why would it show after such a long time? Was it because he was there? But why?

Because of what he had told her? Because of what she felt for him? What did she even feel for him? Why did get so tense when he was around? Why did the concern in his eyes worry her? Why did she try to run every time he approached her? Everything in her life was so damn confusing! Why?

She just hated herself...

***

That smile was a dead smile. It stretched over her lips perfectly, but it never reached her eyes. It killed him. Staying here with all these children perhaps did her some good, but it wouldn't help a lot, he realised. She sorely needed to be alone with someone who could give her the love she required to get out of this.

He knew he was not the ideal person. What he felt for her was mostly lust, not love. But he understood better than anyone else. She had to get out of there. Only then he would succeed in working her. He had to get out of there. Even if it meant destroying every ounce of desire he felt for her...