Arnav-Khushi: Perfectly Imperfect - Last Part [12/04] Note-Page 50 :D - Page 3

Many hours later, Khushi was still sighing in anticipation for the day when Akash would declare undying love for Lavanya, when she was interrupted by a knock on her bedroom door.

"Khushi," Lavanya's dad called from outside the bedroom.

Khushi lifted herself groggily from the bed, and blinked dully at the wall clock until the cloudy figures on it rearranged themselves to make some sense. It was only half past ten in the morning! And it was Saturday! Why was he waking her up?

She drifted to the door and opened it, trying to look bright and cheery, as she yawned, "Good morning Uncle!"

"Good morning beta! I'm going to the market. You want anything?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks. Where's Lav?"

"She went to the office."

"Oh, yeah."

"Have some breakfast, okay?"

"Yes, Uncle," Khushi said obediently, waited to hear the front door close, and flung herself on the bed again.

What felt like five minutes later, somebody was banging on the front door.

"Oh, what the hell!" Khushi muttered, as she stomped to the living room.

She wrenched the door open irritably. It was Arnav Singh Raizada. She rubbed at her heavy eyelids. It still was Arnav Singh Raizada. No surprises there. Only he could be so uncivil - no, barbaric!

Arnav stared at her, taking in, with a fair amount of shock, her wild appearance. Untamed tendrils from her disheveled mass of hair, fell over her face, partly obscuring her puffy, misty eyes.

"Don't you know how to answer the phone?" he asked her brusquely.

"Good morning, Raizada. What sort of time do you call this?"

"Twelve-fifteen."

"Hey Devi Maiyya, really? Oh okay then, whatever. So, what are you doing here?"

"Can I come in?" he asked pointedly.

"Um, no, you can't actually, because I'm alone at home. Uncle has gone to... um, oh yeah, he's gone to the market and -"

"Gupta, sweetheart, you really don't have to worry about me. I won't do anything to you. You're clearly not my type. Even less so when you're looking like that."

Khushi stifled a yawn. It was too early for her to come up with sarcastic ripostes. But inhumane Arnav clearly felt no compassion for sleepy souls such as herself. He immediately began his tirade,

"I've been calling you for the past hour. Can't you answer your phone? Don't they have those at your village? I can't believe I had to come all the way just to wake you up. We are to meet my Nani at two and you're not even ready! Did you even read my text messages?"

"Can you say that again? Slow-ly?"

Arnav sighed and looked up exasperatedly at the skies. He had been doing that a lot lately.

"Okay, I'm waiting for you here," he said, sprawling into a sofa as if he owned the place, "Go, and get ready. We are going to meet my Nani. You have exactly half an hour. Oh wait, you're a girl. Sorry, I mean, you have ten minutes. Make that five."

Khushi marched away grumpily and came back in exactly thirty-seven minutes, having showered and checked her facebook (obviously), and wearing a pair of blue faded jeans and a long white tank top with a stubborn ketchup stain down its front.

"Gupta," Arnav said, gritting his teeth, "We're going to meet Nani. Can't you wear your jhalli behenji clothes?"

"Actually, no. I will wear what I want to wear. And there is no clause in the contract stipulating that you have the right to -"

"Look, Gup - Khushi, please wear something my Nani will like. Something traditional, ok?"

"Oh, how cute! You said "please"... but no! I like these jeans."

She hated this Raizada guy even more now that he had had the audacity to barge into her sleepy Saturday morning, and her attire had been calculated precisely to frustrate him. She had not forgotten his snide remark about the "churidar-kurta wearing village people" at the audition, and the latest jhalli behenji comment had not gone unnoticed either. She gave herself an imaginary pat on the back, as she happily watched that muscle in his jaw tightening.

"Khushi beta?" somebody said just then, killing the magic of the moment. It was Mr Kashyap, back from grocery shopping.

"Uncle?" Khushi said, trying to smoothen her panic-stricken gawk to a casual smile. She had seconds to come up with a plausible story.

"Khushi, who is this?" he asked sternly. He had been a neighbour of the Guptas in Lucknow before he and Lavanya shifted to Mumbai, and he no doubt still retained remnants of the philosophy that believed in segregating boys and girls until it was time for them to spend their entire lives with a complete stranger.

"Uncle, this is, uh..."

"I'm her boyfriend," Arnav offered gallantly.

Khushi stared at him. What a jerk! Now Uncle would freak out, and call her crazy family from Lucknow, and he would know that she had actually run away from home, and she would have to go back and get married, and forever give up her dream of becoming a Bollywood actress! She was trying to come up with yet another getaway plan when Arnav spoke again.

"I was only joking, Uncle" Arnav said convincingly, "I am Arnav Singh Raizada, CEO of AR Fashions."

"Arnav Singh Raizada," Mr Kashyap smiled, "Yes, I have seen you on television. My daughter works at your place. Lavanya Kashyap?"

Khushi watched Mr Kashyap apprehensively. The man's stance seemed to have changed. He was no longer wary. Apparently it was inconceivable to him that such an affluent person could be Khushi's boyfriend. Khushi mentally humphed at the assumption. Why, if anything, she would never stoop to this Raizada's level!

"Yes," Arnav replied, "Lavanya Kashyap, very hot - hard-working employee. Actually, Miss Gupta here had applied for a scholarship offered by our company to enroll at the Navneetkishore Acting Academy, and she has been shortlisted. It's actually part of one of our Corporate Social Responsibility schemes... to, um, encourage new talents. I was just here to explain to her the terms and conditions. You see, she has to audition first, and... I came personally because I was just passing by, and..."

"You know," Mr Kashyap said, a tad theatrically, "People say that you are arrogant and rude. But you are so magnanimous. Not only are you helping our Khushi to advance her career, you actually came to encourage her."

Arnav and Khushi gaped incredulously at Mr Kashyap's trusting simpering face. Had he really fallen for such a lame story?

When Mr Kashyap had left to put away the groceries, Khushi looked at Arnav, and for the first time since they had met, she smiled at him, genuinely, gratefully. She had been wrong (for once). The man did have some goodness in him after all.

"Thanks, Arnav," she said, "If you hadn't done that, there would have been this huge tamasha and he would have told my parents and I would most probably have had to leave Mumbai and spend the rest of my life cooking jalebis for the random idiot my parents would force me to get me married to."

"Mention not," he grinned, "I should be the one thanking you. I know your weakness now. And if you do not change into a churidar-kurta in five minutes, I will go to Mr Kashyap and show him our contract. I'm waiting in the car. Find some random excuse for Mr Kashyap, do whatever you have to do. But I want you in the car in five minutes. And wear pink. It might just make you look good."

Khushi instantly took back everything nice she had began to think about him, utterly undeserving as he was. She hated him, again.