OS: All's fair in love and war

It's nearly 4.30 am and I haven't had a wink of sleep. Which is why I ended up writing this, and out of boredom wound up experimenting- so this might at times be a bit different from the way I usually write. Might. I have no idea if it will :s

Anywho- the OS is based after this Monday's episode, partly on the spoilers about the contract period ending and partly on wishful thinking, because I honestly can't tell where the show is headed and I don't know whether I like it :s So this is an account of what I would like to see, but which I believe will never happen (at least any time soon)

OS: All's fair in love and war

As Arnav drove away, a tiny bubble of some strange emotion floated sluggishly within him, sending whatever it touched tingling. It was a niggling feeling, a curious conviction that something was wrong somewhere, but without any idea what. He felt himself flailing, snatching at empty space for something concrete to explain this odd nipping chill that grew insidiously in the very core of his heart, its devastatingly icy fingers clawing at him. What was this queasiness? This unshakeable belief that something was not right, something critical, crucial...this disquiet was almost asphyxiating.

Arnav's troubled mind strayed back to the root of his dilemma, his mind on autopilot as some tiny corner of it steered the car, zooming down the streets without taking any notice of the blurred greys and browns he outstripped. Khushi...

He could not be wrong. He hadn't had a chance of properly speaking to Khushi since last night, when the family had, with their usual talent of ill-timing, walked in on those precious few moments he had succeeded in looting with Khushi alone. There had been something markedly different about her this morning. Something- muted. Stifled almost. There was a noticeable absence of that fieriness, that effervescence, that liveliness that personified his wife. Khushi. Her name alone summed her up. She was the living, breathing embodiment of happiness...a glimpse of which he had managed to gain when he had presented her this morning with a packet of channa. A small smile made the corner of his lip twitch. Give her a designer bag worth two lakhs and she wouldn't bat an eyelid, but give her a pack of channa and the candlewick in her eyes would burst into flame and dance with visible joy. Relishing always in the simpler joys of life...

An uneasiness knotted in his stomach tightly, and Arnav's smile was replaced instantly by a frown. What was it? For all her nonchalance, her taciturnity was as unsettling as it was uncharacteristic. And it wasn't just silence. He could understand that she would be worried over Buaji's health, but it wasn't worry that glowed dimly in those otherwise luminous, sparkling eyes. It was something that pricked away, needle-sharp, at his conscience, as he replayed the moments he had shared with her mere hours ago...that sadness in her eyes as she said goodbye...

The car screeched to an abrupt halt by the side of the road. Arnav sat bolt upright.

He knew the cause of that persistent tossing and tumbling something cold both sinking and leaping inside him.

Sadness. That was it. There had been a quiet sorrow exuding from each of Khushi's movements today, each of her words, a sorrow she tried to hide but which nevertheless leaked telltale signs. She did not even rise to grab the bait he dangled before as he teased her about accepting him as her husband, did not crack a smile when he, surprising himself, re-versed the lyrics of that crazy song adlibbed by his crazy wife as she washed her clothes at the poolside, with every intent to get on his nerves. This was not his Khushi...this silent grief did not suit her.

And Arnav recognised, with another jolt, what this strange queasiness, this sense of impending disaster, of misgiving, really was. It was a sensation he had been quite familiar with in the past. It had been that same feeling that had seized him and erased the testament of thought as he had chased an ambulance down the street, choked upon a tumult of suffocating emotions that ripped open a vortex of howling empty darkness he had nearly fallen into. It was this same feeling that had made his lungs constrict, his hammering heart nearly splintering his rib cage, when the kidnappers had discovered their hideout in the hut, when the mere idea that they may find Khushi there, that they may hurt her, had eradicated any thought of self-preservation or survival. The same drowning, suffocating sensation that had nearly robbed him of breath when he had held a pale, unmoving, unconscious Khushi in his arms, his heart refusing to believe what his mind had shouted raucously.

That she was leaving him. He was losing her.

That was it.

But why? Why did he feel this way, when things were finally moving in the right direction again? Khushi had come running into his arms only the night before, bringing fruition to the deal he had set with her...she had to accept him as her husband now, there could be no two ways about it...And Di...Di's suspicions that he didn't need her anymore, that he was distancing himself from her, had also been laid to rest...if anything, she had been happy for him when he had finally disclosed to her that he was in love with Khushi, that Khushi was the girl he could not breathe without...she had even spoken well-naturedly to Khushi this morning...and Arnav had felt hope budding within him...both the women his life depended on where now back in their own spheres in his world, where they belonged...so why...

His hectic musings were interrupted unceremoniously by the sharp ringing of his cellphone.

'Yes, Akash,' he answered more stiffly than intended, half his mind still caught up on what, had it been a situation he had encountered some months ago, he would have labelled baseless, pointless fears.

'Bhai...the Mumbai conference...'

It took a few seconds for what Akash was saying to click. Business details, figures, statistics, the watchwords he had, in another lifetime, lived by, began to trip timidly in, dispersing some of the mist of unfounded qualms.

'Oh, yeah...' he mumbled somewhat vaguely, 'Akash, I don't think I can go- it wouldn't be right, at a time like this...with Di-' And Khushi, a little corner of his mind piped up.

Akash's tone was sympathetic as he answered, 'I understand Bhai...if it's OK with you, I'll go instead.'

Arnav felt an upsurge of gratitude at the suggestion, which he had some difficulty stemming. It would not do to sound conspicuously delighted in sending his brother off for something he, ideally, should take care of. He was already beginning to regard himself as spectacularly selfish, without convincing others of the fact as well.

'Um...Bhai, actually...' A distinct ring of hesitation that had crept into Akash's voice, and it pulled Arnav out of his reverie.

'What is it, Akash? Is something wrong?'

'No, no Bhai,' Akash hurried to reassure him, his words running into one another in their haste, 'nothing's wrong...it's just that-' Again, Arnav could tell from the uncomfortable silence that ensued, that Akash was dithering over something.

'What is it, Akash?' he demanded flatly, slipping with ease into the authoritative tenor he had often employed before, which commanded instant compliance. As he had expected, Akash's uncertainty evaporated immediately.

'Woh, actually- I was thinking...it's been six months since- well- since the wedding, and I haven't really taken Payal out or anything...I mean we didn't really go for a honeymoon or anything...so I was thinking if it's OK if I take Payal with me to Mumbai? And besides, the atmosphere at home is so tense...maybe it'll do Payal some good to take a break...and then Maa is also overreacting all the time around her...'

There was a curt reply.

'Yes, of course, go ahead. You don't need to ask me for permission. In fact, take a couple of extra days...take Payal round Mumbai, she'll like it.'

'Thanks so much Bhai, I really-'

'Oh, come on Akash, thanks kis baat ke liye? Can you manage the arrangements or do you need anything-'

'No bhai, don't worry, I'll manage.' An audibly enthusiastic Akash hung up.

And Arnav felt relieved. Not, as he would have expected, as a result of finally witnessing the gentle ebb of previously troubled waters between Akash and Payal- but more because, with Akash's issue satisfactorily resolved, he now had the respite to think. Something Akash had said had kicked off the clockwork of his brain, and now it was ticking furiously away, churning out one thought after another, plucking out disjointed words and phrases to fit into the riddle he had been puzzling over as he speeded away from Laxmi Nagar.

A throttling suspicion clutched at him malevolently.

It's been six months since...six months...six months...

Oh crap.

***

'Hai re Nandkishore, the phone too had to ring now,' Buaji mumbled to herself as she tottered out of the kitchen, dabbing at her brow with a cloth and brandishing a large ladle with one hand as the telephone sounded shrilly. Lifting the receiver to her ear, she answered loudly, 'Hello?'

'Buaji?' The voice on the other end was one she recognised instantly, though the surge of affection she felt for its owner washed away her ability to note the urgency in its tone.

'Arnav Babua!' she exclaimed affably, 'How are you? How come you didn't come with Sanka Devi to visit us, heh?' And then, as an anxious afterthought, she added, 'Is there anything wrong, Babua? She hasn't fought with you or anything has she?'

'No Buaji, it's nothing like that,' the urgent voice assured her, 'But- erh- well, I just wanted to ask- are you OK? I mean, you are well, aren't you? You don't feel ill or anything?'

Buaji felt smiled indulgently at the faint anxiety she could detect in his voice. Another round of affection for her damaad coursed through her as she mused to herself how far she had misjudged this man when she had first met him...that fateful night when he had carried an unconscious Khushi home after abandoning her, as she had thought back then, in a crumbling building that could have come down any second, and taken her titliya with it. The real person, the one behind the stiff and cold demeanour of the business tycoon he was to the rest of the world, was so different, so much more- lovable. She remembered fondly how he had tried to appease her, stuffing himself with half-pooris and full ones despite the fact that it was something he would never be caught doing voluntarily.

And here he was now, awkwardly trying to ask after her health.

He's as much of a child as Sanka Devi is, she thought to herself. Neither has completely grown up.

Aloud she said, 'I'm as good as can be Babua...fit and fine. And as it is, seeing my dear little Sanka Devi always does wonders for me, so I'm feeling great!' Then she added, with an obvious hint of mischief manifest in her tone, 'But are you really calling to inquire after me, Babua, or is it just an excuse to talk to your wife?' She paused a moment to snigger silently, 'If it is, I'll inform you that I've just sent her out to buy vegetables, but I'll call her back if you want!'

'No! I mean, no Buaji, I really was calling to find out if you were well,' the voice at the other end quickly covered up its abrupt denial, resorting instead to sounding rather meek instead. 'And, uh, Buaji-'

'Haan, Babua?'

'Will you do me a favour please?'

'Haan, haan, go on...'

'Please don't tell Khushi I called.'

'But-'

'I'll explain later. But please, please don't tell her I called.'

'As you wish, Babua...'

***

'Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada...' Arnav muttered through tightly clenched teeth, his hands grasping the steering wheel as though intending to rip it off entirely. So she thought she could give him the slip, did she? She thought that because that blasted contract was over, she would just walk out of his life, and he would let her? Well, if that's what she thought- she had another thing coming.

With his agenda clearly penned in his mind, Arnav revved the engine and within minutes was hurtling in the direction of Shantivan.

He had barely charged in through the front doors, nearly knocking Laxmi over without even noticing that she had been in the way and sending Hari Prakash skidding away for cover at the mere glimpse of the thunderous expression on his face, when he spotted NK.

'Call Di and Nani,' he shot out at him, more aggressively than he had meant to. But he couldn't help it. Inside, he was bristling with barely controlled rage. He felt wounded. Wounded by the ease with which Khushi had unilaterally decided for herself that she could just get up one fine morning- and leave him. It was all he could do not to rush back to Laxmi Nagar and ambush her, pin her to a wall, grab hold of her in a vice-like grip, ranting and raging at her for her sheer impudence in assuming that he would let her go. For her audacity in lying to him. After everything that had been, everything that was-

If he had been thinking more rationally, if he had not been seething from the fury- and the hurt , hurt which was ripping holes into him, shredding him apart– he might have admitted to himself that she had, after all, very good reason for leaving. He had himself reminded her, hadn't he, that they were bound in a contract marriage, and that she could not leave until it was terminated? Hadn't he used it as a lowly, despicable ploy to buy himself some time, at a time when she had, naturally, taken for granted that the distinction between that contract and the bond they shared had blurred, become insignificant? Hadn't he proved her wrong? And Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada had always worshipped that sacred bond of marriage, had given him countless sermons about her unwavering belief- and now, with the contract over, there was no basis on which he could claim that she was his...

'Nannav, mere bhai, is everything OK?'

'No,' Arnav growled, more to himself than his concerned looking cousin, 'But I'll make it OK- once and for all.'

***

Khushi nearly choked on a mouthful of jalebi she had managed to swallow whole. Eyes watering as she tried to spit it out, she skipped on the spot trying to suppress a fit of irrepressible coughs.

She had just received a rather unpleasant surprise.

She had just been about to bound out of the bedroom, a well rehearsed explanation for her sudden arrival at Buaji's house finely scripted, a firm, broad smile fixed in place, when the sound of voices had arrested her step.

The last voices she would have wanted to hear.

Now, the sorry little remnant of jalebi in her hand forgotten, Khushi had her back pressed flat against the wall next to the door, teetering between attempting to pull the door shut (and thereby risk drawing attention to her whereabouts and precipitate her downfall), and eavesdropping on the conversation as the fabrications she had fed both the Raizadas and her Buaji were unravelled thread after miserable thread.

A morbid curiosity got the better of her, and Khushi opted for the latter option.

But what she saw as she squinted through the curtains, gently fanned by the breeze that floated through the open windows, made her question her eyesight rather severely.

He was there of course. It was only to be expected, Khushi thought bitterly, that the Laad Governor would be present- after all, he was the root of all her problems, wasn't he?

No, it was the other guests that Khushi could not account for. Jiji was there, standing demurely behind the armchair where Arnavji had seated himself, looking very much at home and with a quiet self-assurance about him that struck Khushi disagreeably. Behind him, Jiji was smiling slightly at something the woman sitting beside Buaji was saying- Naniji.

Khushi nearly moaned out loud in despair. Shame threatened to knock her unconscious, and sheer mortification made the first option of carefully pulling the door to obsolete. She was frozen to the spot in trepidation- sooner or later, Naniji was going to discover that Khushi had lied to her, lied blatantly about Buaji's health, had fooled the whole family into thinking that she was coming over to look after Buaji when all the while her intentions had been far more dishonest...she gulped. She would never be able to look her in the eye again.

But as the agonising seconds ticked away and Buaji's booming voice did not shoot up to summon her to the witness box, Khushi felt a faint puzzlement taking the place of her fear. Gathering her faculties, she tried to focus on what was being said-

'-we've always regretted that we didn't go about it the right way, Madhumati-ji...'

'Arey nahi, Naniji- it really does not matter- what counts is that Khushi bitiya has married into such a loving and caring family, with such a loving and caring husband-'

Khushi ventured another peek through the curtains and saw the delicate smiles on the lips of both Buaji and Nani as they spoke. Out of the corner of her eye, she could also see the shadow of a smirk across the Rakshas' face. But even that could not irk her right now. What on earth are they talking about? Why aren't they looking angry?

Khushi peered into the room, almost on tiptoe as she struggled to make sense of the scene- it was pretty obvious from the way Buaji was bearing herself and chatting away animatedly that there was nothing wrong with her...and since that was the case, Naniji too must have conjectured by now that the story she had presented her with had been a sham- so why...

And then a third voice spoke, one that nearly made Khushi question whether she was dreaming in broad daylight.

'But it matters to us Buaji...Khushiji may well be part of our family right now, but there will always be a sense of something missing...every girl dreams about her wedding day, and I know Khushiji has always fantasised about her marriage...'

Buaji was about to protest, but Anjali, who had been so far been seated silently on a chair out of Khushi's line of vision, interrupted.

'Please, Buaji...it won't change the fact that they are married- it will just give that fact a few precious memories to hold it up.'

There was a slight pause, and Khushi's ears stood to attention, straining to hear more. She was now at the zenith of confusion- what is going on here?!

'So is this why you were telling me not tell Khushi about the call earlier, Babua?' Buaji had turned on Arnav now.

'Something like that Buaji,' Arnav answered glibly, 'I know I hurt a lot of people with the abrupt way I married Khushi- especially Khushi herself. So I'm here to make it right. I'm here, with my family...to ask for Khushi's hand in marriage.'

The last thing Khushi remembered was a powerful reeling sensation, the whole room swaying around about her, before she skipped into the welcoming darkness of unconsciousness.

***

'Khushi! Khushi!'

A muffled droning buzzed in her head as Khushi, swimming in a haze of shadows, attempted to detect the source of the voice. Her head felt heavy, and for some reason she expected to find herself lying sprawled on the floor. Instead, she could feel quite distinctly the soft fluffy pillow her head rested on, the warm cover that had been drawn almost up to her chin. Blearily, she opened her eyes.

Jiji's face swam into view.

'Jiji!' she mumbled ecstatically.

So it was dream. It had all been a crazy, mad, nonsensical dream- and now, she was back in bed, and Jiji was waking her up to face another day. Content with this solution, Khushi's slightly disoriented brain leapt to try and explain the phenomenon to her sister.

'You know, Jiji,' she managed groggily, 'I just had the strangest dream...that that Laad Governor had just come here with his whole family...to ask for my hand in marriage. Isn't that funny?' And she waited patiently for her Jiji's exclamations owing to the absurdity of such a thing happening.

So she was reasonably confused when Jiji unsuccessfully attempted to muffle a chortle.

'What?' she demanded, her brain working more feverishly now to take stock of her surroundings. A dull pain she had not noticed before was beginning to materialise at the back of her head. Face screwing up as the pain gradually began to register more acutely, Khushi had just been in the process of hauling herself up in bed when an alien voice addressed her.

'Careful...does it hurt very much?'

All traces of dazed semi-consciousness disappeared in an instant, and a thoroughly bewildered Khushi sat up in bed, dishevelled and looking almost petrified. She hardly noticed as Jiji, muttering an unintelligible excuse, quietly exited the room, fighting to keep a wide smile under wraps.

All her attention was fixed on the man who had propped himself quietly against one of the bed posts, observing her, straightening himself languidly before sauntering over to her bed and plopping down in front of her.

'What are you doing here?' Khushi asked suspiciously, her confusion compounded tenfold by the soft smile playing about on his face as he gazed- well, almost adoringly, if not a little triumphantly- at her.

'I don't need a reason to visit my wife,' he replied quietly, a low murmur so warm, so soft, Khushi was reminded of the jalebis she had been feasting on moments before...

The events of the day, and of those which had led up to it, came rocketing back to Khushi in a heartbeat. Her leaving the house, her goodbyes to her families, the secret pain she had bundled in her heart, hers to keep and not to share, eating away at her from within without an outlet to let the anguish out...the contract over, her marriage at an end...

Tears accumulated in her eyes, in spite of her efforts to fight them off. She struggled to keep her voice steady, controlled, 'I'm not your wife any more, Arnavji...the contract is over.' She had bent her head low, in the desperate hope that he would not read the agony that must be written clearly across her face.

'Wife-to-be, then,' Arnav answered casually.

Khushi's head shot up. 'What?' she asked, eyes narrowed.

'Wife-to-be,' Arnav repeated, unruffled as ever. That triumphant gleam in his eyes was more pronounced than ever, 'I've just asked for your hand in marriage from Buaji...and while you were busy being unconscious, Bauji and Amma came back, and I asked them too. They both acquiesced. We're getting married Khushi Kumari Gupta...to-be Singh Raizada.'

Khushi spluttered incoherently for a while, pure disbelief chasing off the flabbergasted expression on her face.

'No,' she managed at last, stiffly, 'No.' She repeated with more conviction, 'We are not getting married, I will not marry you!'

'Why?'

'Because-' here Khushi's hands gesticulated wildly as she attempted to elucidate what, up until a minute ago, had been an armada of reasons, 'well, because- because- of Di!'

'Di herself proposed that we come and ask for your hand in marriage, Khushi,' Arnav informed her quietly, watching her closely.

Khushi blinked twice, almost fighting an urge to pinch herself. Had she heard right? Or was she still dreaming and any minute now she'd wake up to find herself on her bed, under the stars...or maybe by the poolside...or maybe in Arnavji's room...she felt giddy, her head spinning in dizzying arcs.

'What are you talking about?'

'I'm saying, Di herself said we ought to get married the proper way.'

'No- no- Di can't be happy with me in the house- and you can't be happy if she isn't...' Khushi sounded like she was trying to convince herself rather than him, repeating the words she uttered in her head like a chant.

'No Khushi...' Arnav interrupted softly, edging forwards a little and slowly raising a hand to hold the side of her face, 'Di can't be happy if I'm not happy, and I can't be happy if you're not in the house...'

Khushi frowned, uncalled for anger flaring in her eyes in an instant, before she swatted his hand away. She remembered only too well the night they had been married...remembered only too well how he had brought her world and all her simple dreams crashing down, shattering them beyond repair...remembered his biting words, his painful, stabbing accusations...remembered his stern reminder only days ago, after everything they had been through together, after everything that had transpired between them, of that same contract, that had, once upon a time, made her wish she could hate him.

His expression had not changed.

'The reason we got married doesn't exist anymore, Arnavji- you wanted to save your sister's marriage, I wanted to save my sister's. Shyamji is gone now and you know the truth. There's no point in us getting married again...you'd better tell Di and Nani about that.'

'Oh I did,' Arnav responded, airily.

'You what?'

'I told them about our marriage being a contract, and I told them why. And I also told them that the contract has ended...so they decided that this time we should get married the proper way. Especially Di. And I agree with them.'

Khushi stared at him for a long moment, before shaking her head in vigorous dissent.

'No...no...I'm not going to marry you...'

'Why not?'

'Why should I? Haven't I said that the reason we got married no longer exists?'

'But the reason to continue with it does.'

Khushi gave a short humourless laugh, 'And what do you think? Marrying me will make me forget about the past six months? It'll make me forget how you didn't trust me, how you made my life into a nightmare?'

Arnav sighed. This time, as he looked straight into her eyes, not even blinking, Khushi felt her breath catch. The previous glow of victory was gone. Instead, remorse burnt almost destructively in those pools of honey-caramel.

'No...but it'll give me a lifetime to make up for it.'

'I haven't said yes yet,' Khushi reminded him quietly. Her mind was lurching unsteadily, woefully disconcerted by the speed at which events were shaping up, the unexpected twists and turns they were taking, not sure what she was supposed to feel anymore, not sure what she was to think.

'You can't say no...' Arnav informed her lightly, provoking a sharp defiant glance from Khushi. He hurried on, stalling her protest upon her lips, 'not when both your family and mine are busy in preparations...not when they have a cause to celebrate after so long- a genuine one...and you've always made your loved ones' happiness yours...'

As he spoke, the sound of laughter drifted into the room through the door, left slightly ajar. Khushi glared moodily at Arnav.

This was foul play. He knew her too well.

Trust the Laad Governor to resort to emotional blackmail.

'That's not fair.'

And he finally abandoned all reserve, grinning at her wolfishly.

'All's fair in love and war, Mrs. To-be- Raiazada.'

All comments and reviews are welcome :)

I reserve all rights over this work of fiction and request that readers do not reproduce/copy/modify it elsewhere and/or claim credit. Thanks :)

Res

u write so nicely.. very eloquent and prolific.. loved it..

Loved this OS and thanks sooo much for the update!!!!

*sigh* this is serious wistful thinking!

aww tht was really sweet 😳

Lovely OS!

Loved it, wish it could have continued onnn :D

aww soo sweet doe eyes..i really wish that the cvs follow your track...