by Anamika GK
Making Khushi Mine
Book 1
By
Anamika GK
Digital Publication
Published By
Indic Publication Inc, California, USA
www.indicpub.com
email: [email protected]
Copyright 2014 © Anamika GK
ISBN: 978-1-62598-040-3
All Rights Reserved. No Part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the Author and or/the Publisher. Any and all vending sales and distribution not permitted without full book cover and this page.
This Book is Dedicated to:
To my doting parents.
Without your love I wouldn't be here today, literally and figuratively. Mom Dad, you are my everything.
Acknowledgment:
A special thanks to the love of my life, my husband. Your relentless will to see me succeed is the only thing that keeps me going. Thank you for being you. Love you.
Also, a heartfelt gratitude to my readers and my publishers. Your support made this book a reality. Thanks a lot guys.
Chapter 1
“Hai re Nandkishore, bitwa you are not eating anything. From now on, I will personally see to it that you eat heartily like a young man should” buaji exclaimed.
She was rewarded with a very awkward smile. He was not used to company while having breakfast, and a fussing over him types, absolutely not.
“How was your flight beta?” his dad asked.
“It was fine dad” he replied.
“Here take some more pooris bitwa; eat properly. I have seen you after so long Nandkishore”, buaji served him some more, ignoring the mortified look on his face.
“Jiji, you cannot feed him for all eleven years in one day. He'll get sick. He is not used to Indian food,” his dad came to his rescue.
“Oh! Then leave it bitwa, leave it. We don't want you to get sick among all this fan-fare, where I cannot even look after you properly. Everybody will be enjoying in evening, what use is all this food if the only son of the house does not enjoy because of it” she relented instantly.
He smiled, a little more genuinely this time. Not because she had let him off the hook, but because she referred to him as the son of this house.
“Beta, as you can see there is a lot to do. I am afraid I'll have to go now. But you sleep a little and get refreshed. Hariprakash will wake you up when it is time for you to get ready' he dad said getting up from the dining table where they all were sitting.
“Okay dad. Ummm ... Can I look around the house for a while ... if you don't mind?”, he said, not sure what made him ask for permission, for he had run around the mango groves in the backyard of this very house, creating pretend fortresses and restricting entry rights of everyone else there at one time. ‘Maybe the long years that he had been away from this place’, he shrugged mentally.
“Of course beta. You don't have to ask. It’s your house. But don't forget to sleep. There is a ten hour time difference and you'll be jet lagged in evening if you don't take rest now. It is a ... what do you people call it in America... big fat Indian wedding in the house. And I want to show off my son to everyone there”, he looked at him with a benevolent smile before walking into the other room.
“Bitwa, you know where your room is? Have you seen it?” buaji asked.
“Ji, yes, I have.” he replied.
“Bhaiya got it specially designed for you. Total American-style with swimming pool and all. He is so happy that you have finally decided to live here. And I am so happy that you came in time to attend the wedding. Now the family looks complete. Rest now bitwa. Everything is so hotchpotch today, but in a day or two we all will sit and talk to our hearts content” she said getting up, with a kind smile.
Avish too got up from the dining table, already feeling weird due to such heavy and greasy breakfast. He has always eaten milk and cereals for breakfast since college, but buaji's enthusiasm to feed him had killed all his protests. With the agenda of a little walk, and a trip down the memory lane in this childhood house of his, he made his way towards the veranda of the ground floor of Raizada Mansion. He had come here last, eleven years ago, only because he had to, once every year until he turned eighteen, as per court orders.
When he had come in the morning today, after an early morning flight, it was still dark outside so he did not see much. Just a white washed imposing building, surrounded by vast gardens, inside huge rot-iron gates. After living abroad for so many years it had all felt kind of royal to him, and alien too. And to think of it, he has spent his childhood in this very house. This is ‘his’ ancestral house, he thought wryly.
A long veranda, winding all around the grand Raizada Mansion, with pillars lined up along its length and decorative arches between those pillars, looking over the lush green gardens. It was beautiful, with charming architectural details of the pre-independence-era intact in all its glory. Raizada's were old money family of Delhi, his grandfather had built this mansion in the heart of Delhi during early 1940's and his dad, Sumer Singh Raizada, has visibly done a very good job of preserving it. After making a round of the veranda, he decided to go to his room and sleep as the house was brimming with people who he assumed were friends and neighbors. There was some ladies function planned on the terrace later that morning buaji had mentioned. He will tour the house after all this wedding circus is over, he decided.
He settled on inspecting his room for today. It was, as buaji said, an all American-style, very modern bedroom with minimalistic decor, obviously a new addition to this wing. Huge contemporary bed, grayish-green paint on walls, a huge LCD TV opposite the bed, a stylish green recliner, frosted glass cupboards, few modern art paintings; everything was on the lines of his apartment decor in New York. It also had a swimming pool area adjacent to it, a jet shower, hardwood floors. In short, this whole new world that was created in this house was solely for his benefit, totally different from rest of the Raizada Mansion that had an old world charm to it with traditional arched windows and marble floors. He appreciated his dad's efforts, he knew he was trying hard, but that was it. For him, it was too little, too late. He would have gone ballistic with joy, had this attention been showered fifteen years back, on a love-starved kid who wanted to stay in his room, in this house, who had cried that he did not want to go to the boarding school. But not now. He has over the years expertly taught his heart to not get happy at either of his parent's generous gestures, as they were just baits to lure him to their respective sides.
His head had started aching due to tiredness and change in surroundings, but sleep was still eluding him. His body clock was very different. He spent some time working on his laptop, calling a few business associates for work related matters, watching news on TV. After 2-3 hours he picked up the intercom and asked for lunch, some salad basically. He could not risk going down and again eat the kind of food he had for breakfast. Finally he decided to lie down and close his eyes, willing the sleep to come. God knows when, amid the wandering thoughts of his childhood, his apartment in New York, some pending business presentations, few flashes of his mother's face, sleep finally caught up with him.
Constant banging on the door awoke Avish from his deep slumber. He was trying to block the noise by pressing a pillow on his ears since last five minutes, but whosoever was on the other side of the door was relentless. He finally gave up and stood up groggily to open the door. Hurrypaash, yeah that's what buaji said his name was, was standing with a scared look on his face in front of him.
“Chote sahab, please get ready” he said.
“What time is it?” Avish asked, irritated due to sleepiness.
“Ji, its six-thi
rty. Baraat is supposed to come in half an hour. I am trying to wake you up since five p.m.” he informed of his failed attempts, lest chote sahib gets angry for not waking him up on time. Bade sahab has warned the whole household about his temper before his arrival.
“Okay! Listen ... Ummm ... can you get me a cup of strong black coffee?” Avish asked, not very accustomed to household help.
“Ji, sure” Hariprakash said and left.
After having a much needed dose of caffeine, a hot shower and few work related calls, Avish made his way to the decorated gardens, about an hour later, dressed in a black three piece suit, with a green silk shirt and a green tie. Five p.m. or six-thirty p.m. or even after the wedding, it did not matter to him when he was woken up for he knew nobody here, other than his dad and buaji. He did not even know the bride or the groom. He was here because his dad insisted on his presence at this wedding, else he would have come a week later as originally planned. He knew that his dad could be quite persuasive when he chose to be. Wasn’t it the relentless persuasion, that had finally made him agree to shift bases to India?
He tried hard to locate his dad among the sea of unknown faces, but he was nowhere to be found. Instead he found a group of girls staring at him and giggling. Irritated, he spotted a secluded bench in the garden and fished out his blackberry, reading and replying his mails and checking stock prices, basically utilizing time while shehnai music reverberated in the air, the air which smelled heavily of roses and marigold flowers. Did Hurrypaash not say that baraat will come in half an hour? It was nearly 8 p.m. and there was no sign of baraat, groom, bride or anything else. “Indian Standard Time” he muttered under his breath. Guests, however, had already started on dinner buffet without waiting for the ceremony, he noticed.
When another half an hour passed, Avish got impatient. Maybe the ceremony is taking place inside the house, or in some other corner of the garden that he did not know about. He spotted a known face, namely Hurrypaash, passing by and called him out.
“Hurrypaash, listen”, he said, in a higher octave.
“Ji chote sahab, me?”, he looked around, confirming that it was him who was being called.
“Yeah! you”, Avish stood up, and walked towards the man.
“My name is Hariprakash, chote sahab”, the man meekly corrected him.
“Oh! Hariprakash, is it? Okay. Hariprakash, where is dad?” he questioned.
“Ji, bade sahab and buaji are in Khushi babyji's room”, he informed.
“Khushi babyji, the bride?” he asked.
Hariprakash nodded in confirmation.
“Where is her room?”
“Ji, in the same wing where your room is. Two doors before yours. Yours is in the right hand side of the corridor, babyji's is on the left hand side.”
Avish dismissed Hariprakash. He stood there thinking about what should he do now. He knew that Khushi is his dad's foster daughter, and that it is her wedding today. Other than that he had no idea about the girl. Dad did not talk much about her in front of him after he had accused him of getting 'that girl' into the house as his replacement, in a fit of anger years ago. Though he had briefly talked to her once on the phone two years back, when she had called him to inquire about his dad after he had suffered a heart stroke while visiting New York. Was that phone call enough acquaintance for him to go inside her room? Should he go or should he wait here? Technically speaking he wrapped up everything a week early in NY and has come only for her wedding today, hasn't he? And this was his house, isn't it? Also his dad and buaji are inside there.
After a few minutes of contemplation Avish Singh Raizada made his way inside the mansion, towards the said door, which was his room eleven years back.
Chapter 2
He crisply knocked on the door of what was now Khushi's room and slowly pushed it a little. His dad who was standing in the middle of the room looked at the door.
"Come in beta" he said when he saw Avish's face through the slit of the door.
Avish stepped into the room, and gave a cursory glance around while walking to his dad. His dad was standing with an older man and both looked quite stressed out. On the bed sat who he assumed was Khushi, going by her wedding finery and buaji, side by side, both leaning on each other. There was a pin drop silence in there and a suffocating tension hung in the air. All the occupants were looking like someone had died rather than someone was going to get married today. He sensed that there was some major argument going on, which had been halted in the light of his arrival. His dad introduced him to the other older gentleman.
“Beta, this is Manohar Jha. Khushi was supposed to get married to his son Suraj . My son. Avish” he said in a clipped tone, as Avish shook hands with the man.
“Supposed to?” Avish questioned, first looking at his dad and then at Khushi, who instantly closed her eyes looking extremely uncomfortable.
“Yeah. Supposed to. Apparently his dear son has run away a few hours back, leaving a farewell letter behind” his dad said, bitterly.
Buaji's sobbed quite audibly in the background as her brother finished speaking. Manohar Jha hung his head down once again.
“I am sorry, Raizada sahab. I don't know what to say. Suraj is dead to me from today. Had I known his intentions, I would have killed him myself. Trust me Raizada sahab”, Manohar Jha spoke, slowly.
“Oh please Manoharji. Cut the crap. Your sorry is not going to stop the ridicule which we are about to face in the society. It won't help my daughter's future”, Sumer Singh Raizada spat, his voice getting louder with each syllable.
Waiting in the garden suddenly started looking like a better idea to Avish. He had no clue what he was supposed to do or say in this situation. While his dad was emitting cold fury, Buaji was sobbing continuously and the would-have-been bride was sitting with her arms around her knees, looking at her feet with utmost concentration. He felt like an intruder in his own house, out of place of the sorts, for he had no background context of the matter here. Moreover he did not know this girl Khushi even a little to jump into the argument for her cause. Should he excuse himself and let himself out? Yeah, that would be better.
"Dad I will wait outside”' he said and started moving out.
“No beta. You stay here. Manoharji I think you should leave. Your shameless son has done the deed and now there is no point in discussing it further. And don't think I'll let you get away with this. You and your son, I'll bring you two on the road and you very well know that I don't even have to try much with my holdings in Jha Chemicals”, Sumer Singh Raizada threatened. “And I want everything I have sent to your house in the last month back here by tomorrow morning, am I clear?”, he added.
“Ji”, Manohar Jha mumbled and left the room with heavy steps. He would have really liked Khushi as Jha daughter-in-law. Beautiful girl with Raizada connections. And a little compromise here and there is what life is all about, isn't it? Oh God, what a fool his son Suraj is!
Sumer moved towards the bed after Manohar Jha closed the door behind him. He sat in front of Khushi and put his hand on her head. Within a flash she jumped into her bade papa's arms burying her head in his shoulder. Avish did not know what to do, so he also moved near the bed and stood at the edge.
“I am sorry Laddoo. I am so sorry bachhe”, his dad was saying to the girl, who looked more like a child bride.
Laddoo!! Avish couldn't help feeling a tinge of jealousy at this nickname business. Grow up, will you? He admonished himself.
“It’s okay, bade papa. You know it’s all because of me” Avish heard her say.
His eyes widened. It’s okay? Really? Is she not supposed to blame that runaway groom or ... at least complain. She just got jilted on her wedding day for crying out loud. What a strange girl!
“No it’s not okay. You told me that you found that scoundrel's behavior weird, but I still pushed you into this mess. I am sorry beta”, his dad replied guiltily and looked at buaji, who looked double guilty to Avish's keen eyes.
Okay, so there
is more than what meets the eye here. If she knew something was off then why did dad still push her? She is quite a beautiful girl. And with Sumer Singh Raizada as her guardian, she can have a line of suitors behind her in a snap, Avish analyzed the available facts, just like he did at work.
“No bade papa. It's all for the best. We should be glad that it all happened before marriage, else my life would have been irreversibly damaged”, she wiped the tears off of her bade papa's eyes.
True, Avish mentally agreed. He liked this girl’s balance of mind.
“But bhaiya, what will we do now? All the guests have arrived outside. What will we tell them?” buaji spoke.
“I don't know jiji. We tell them that the wedding is off, I guess”, Sumer replied, with slumped shoulders.
“What will happen to Titaliya's future then? Have you thought about that?”, she raised her concern.
“You think I am not thinking about that?”, snapped Sumer, while getting up from the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
Sumer Singh Raizada was a strong man, but even he had his limits. A wife who left him, an estranged stubborn son who he had to practically woo back into his life, a widowed sister and a daughter whose future was at stake right now. There should be a limit to the tests life throws at you. But this was not the time to complain. Right now he needed to set everything straight in his Laddoo's life, his daughter who had blindly followed his decision.
“Jiji, I know one guy who would happily marry Laddoo. Should I call them?”, he turned a little hopeful at his idea.
“WHAT?”, Khushi shrieked before anyone could react. “Bade papa, I am not marrying anyone. Please don't start this again”, Khushi's voice was dripping with irritation, and tears were forming in her eyes now.
“Beta, you know the boy since childhood. Rishabh. Rishabh Raichand. He is such a nice boy. You are friends with his sister and his parents love you too. They are such good people, I am sure if we talk to them, they will agree. I know he is still studying, but we will just get you two married right now. Bidaai can take place later”, he suggested.