“Amma,
Babuji ke liye harra….Bhuaji ke
liye santri….Jiji ke
liye neela. Aur Arnavji ke liye….” (“Green
for Amma, Babuji…orange for
Bhuaji…blue for
Jiji. And for Arnavji…”) Khushi
smiled widely in her sleep, immersed in her recurring dream. “Arnavji aur
humaray liye laal!” (Red for Arnavji and myself!) She bolted upright in bed,
clasping her hands together in glee. “Holi hai!!!!!” She finally opened her
eyes and looked around the bedroom. There were silver trays laden with heaps of
color piled on each plate, strewn about everywhere. Some on the bed stands,
some on the dresser and some on the table next to the chaise lounge. Every hue she
could think of was at her disposal. She clutched her heart as it flipped and
fluttered in her chest. Only one person could’ve done this. She turned to look at
her handsome husband, ready to fawn all over him. But all she saw were empty,
desolate sheets. Her hand reached over to caress the space where her Arnavji
always lay nearby, holding her close through the nights. Her hand continued to
traverse up and caress over the dent in his pillow, where his beautiful head
had rested. She picked it up and hugged it to her chest, taking a deep inhale
of her favorite scent….the scent of him.
Khushi left
the bed to hurriedly get ready and search for her husband. She had some
celebrating to do, and there was no way she wanted to start this Holi without
seeing his face first. Upon emerging from the bathroom, she went over to their
closet. Her fingers rifled through her plethora of clothing until finally
stopping at one sari. She bit her bottom lip, pulling it off the hanger, as a
forbidden spark radiated through her. After that fateful one time, she never
thought she would ever wear it again, but something had compelled her to stow
it away. And now, it happened to be the only white she possessed at the moment,
so it would have to make do. She quickly pleated the wispy white material and
paired it with a rustic, canary yellow blouse. She deftly pinned her pallu and
smoothed her hands over the sari, taking one last survey of herself before
going to look for her Arnavji.
The whole
morning passed by and she had yet to find her husband. She’d asked every member
of the family but it seemed every time she went to his last seen place, he’d
already vanished. Was he that busy
that he didn’t even have a moment for her on Holi? Her eyes were hungry to see
the sight of him. But amidst it all, she did not forget the hustle and bustle
of preparations that went on in the Raizada house during a special occasion. She
continued on with all the provisions for the festivities that would be soon
starting, yet her eyes never stopped searching for her husband. An overburdened
Hari Prakash crossed her line of vision, and she snapped out of her reverie for
a moment. “Hari Prakash ji, lai ye. Hum madat kartay hain.” (“Give this to me
Hari Prakash ji. I’ll help you.”)
“Khushi
Bhabi! Aap ka laakh laakh shukar hai! Is matkay may paani bhar do. Hum dobara
bahar ja te hain, Anjali Didi mujhe bullaa rehi thi.” (Khushi Bhabi! Thanks a
million! Just fill this vessel with water please. I have to go back outside,
Anjali Didi was calling me.”)
“Hum hai
na? Koi baat nahi!” (“I’m here aren’t I? No worries!”) Khushi headed towards
the kitchen as she waved off Hari Prakash. Her mind was busy juggling all her
pending tasks, when her Arnavji finally came into view. She stood frozen in
place, watching him gulp down a tall drink of water. Hey Devi Maiya, he was looking like a tall drink of water.
Her husband was wearing a crisp white shirt that was uncharacteristically and roguishly
untucked, with his top two buttons open. Her hand itched, wanting to slip
inside that open juncture and feel his warm skin, to feel that dhak dhak dhak against her palm. She
visually traced the outlining of the shirt and the way it lay across his broad
back, tapering down until the shirttail curved loosely around his tush. A
mighty fine tush that was encased in rugged denim. Khushi swallowed the excess
saliva developing in her watering mouth. Seeing her Arnavji in jeans did…things to her body. She made a mental note to add more
denim to his wardrobe. Quietly placing the matka on the floor, she touched the
mountain of red color lying on the nearby countertop. Quickly sneaking up
behind her husband, she streaked his stubbled cheek red and swiftly planted a
kiss on the other one, catching him off guard. “Burrah na mano, Holi hai!!!”
Khushi smiled cheerily as she finally wished him. Unfortunately her cheer was
not reciprocated.
“Khushi,
leave me alone!” Arnav turned on his heel and stomped away.
“Arrey! Arnavji
rukiye to sai!!” (Hey! Arnavji wait a second!!”) Her husband had literally just
huffed and puffed away from her. She knew he usually didn’t like playing Holi,
but she didn’t think it warranted such a terse reaction. Undeterred by his
crudeness, she diligently followed him up the stairs and into their bedroom. He’d
turned his back on her and she watched for a moment as he drew in deep breaths,
his fists clenching and unclenching. Determined to find out what was wrong, she
faced him head on.
“Khushi, I
told you to leave me alone! Go away!” Arnav once again turned his back.
Khushi was
not fazed by her husband’s abrupt tone. In fact, her ears had long since been
trained to decipher his often cryptic anger. She once again came around to face
him. As he averted her path, Khushi saw him head straight for the door. Quickly
scurrying ahead of him, she closed the doors and leaned against them, fully
blocking his exit and trapping him in the room with her. She saw his eyes glint
with cold, hard steel.
“Khushi,
move out of my way.”
Her
husband’s tone had almost sounded menacing. These days, she much preferred when
his gravelly tone was used in other more
intriguing genres of conversation. “I’m
not going anywhere and neither are you until you tell me what the matter is.” Her
husband’s response was to once again turn his back, crossing his arms over his
chest, refusing to look at her. “Arnavji, please. Itna gussa kyon? (Why so
mad?) Was it the color in the kitchen?” Khushi reached out a hand to place it
on her husband’s shoulder. “It’s Holi…. I just
thought…”
Arnav felt
as though he’d been singed by her touch and immediately stepped away from her
hand. It was almost unbearable.
“Arnavji…why are you so mad? What did I do?” Khushi refused
to relent without an answer.
Arnav paced
away towards the pool side doors, stopping at the chaise. “I’m not mad at you
Khushi. I’m mad at MYSELF!!!”
Even though
he’d just shouted at her, Khushi’s legs carried her over to her husband, fueled
by the anguish she heard in his tone. “Kya…? With yourself??”
Arnav
abruptly turned and grabbed Khushi by her upper arms, bringing her to her tip
toes in his tight hold. "Last year you were sleeping outside!! OUTSIDE
KHUSHI! On the cold, hard brick floor, while I slept in the comfort and warmth
of my bed! ALL BECAUSE OF ME! Who does that to someone, let alone their wife??
How could I have done that?” Arnav’s fingers lost strength and loosened in will
as he dropped his hands to his sides. His gaze was drawn to the harsh, ruddy
fingerprints appearing on his Khushi’s flawless skin. And he’d done it yet
again. Proving exactly how unfit he was for her. “How am I supposed to be fine
with myself after I treated my own wife like a....“ Arnav’s voice turned into a
mere whisper as his legs gave out from under him. He sank onto the chaise,
unable to face her.
Khushi saw
her husband’s eyes glaze over with unshed tears, and they struck her straight
in the heart. She just couldn’t watch them spill out. When she felt his head
fall dejectedly against her, she placated him by pulling him even closer. Her
arms came up to automatically cradle his head against her chest where he’d
buried it. She ran her fingers through his hair, over his scalp, and he latched
his arms onto her waist as if she was his anchor. She felt as if she was the
only thing keeping him together. She stood there, smoothing her hands over his
back and shoulders until his subtle tremors subsided. She leaned down to
whisper close in his ear, her lips brushing the warm shell, “Arnavji, please
don’t think of that”. Her own eyes glossed over and she tried to keep the
quiver from her voice. “Don't think of those times. Especially now…when we've come so, so far. So far that you don’t even
know….” Khushi
pressed soft, comforting kisses to his temple, ear, and neck before resting her
cheek atop his head and holding him close. Her Arnavji's turmoil subsided as he
lifted his head, but she couldn’t handle seeing his damp eyes. She sank onto
his lap, needing to be closer to him. She ran a hand over his cheeks
effectively wiping away the lingering tear tracks.
As Arnav
found the courage to finally look his wife in the eye, he was undeservingly
graced with her beautiful, tumultuous smile. He saw barely contained tears
brimming her light brown depths. Even when she should’ve been lashing out at
him, she was his rock. She withstood everything he gave her, good or bad. She’d
taken away his pain and absorbed it into herself. He could clearly see it
reflecting through her glistening eyes. This was one of those times that he
almost wanted to believe that there was in fact a man upstairs. Who else could
have created such a magnificent, loving angel, with the most forgiving heart he’d
ever met? She had to have descended from divinity. His own pari among mere mortals, sent down to earth to rescue him. He took a
pinch of red powder and streaked it into the part in her hair, then reverently traced
his stained fingers over her supple cheek. ”Khushi, I love you. Happy Holi sweetheart.”
He leaned forward to place a kiss on her other cheek as his finger came to silence
her lips. He just couldn’t bear to hear those three words back from her right
now. His mouth was drawn to the warm plumpness of her quivering lips and he
pressed tender kisses around her mouth. Seeing her unguarded expression, Arnav
finally tilted his head to claim her lips.
Khushi
closed her eyes and relished each brush of her Arnavji’s mouth. His kisses had
started off as soft pecks that slowly began lingering. She felt a familiar heat
rising in her veins. And then she felt her
husband’s heat rise prominently against her hip. She shied away, quickly
clambering off his lap, but couldn’t make the hasty retreat she intended.
Her pallu was stuck! She had flashbacks to all the times her dupatta had
snagged on the houseplants and furniture. She reluctantly turned to free
herself and noted the source of hindrance. No, it wasn’t one of the houseplants
or furniture, but instead was her Arnavji, unrelentingly holding her pallu in
his fist. Khushi’s cheeks warmed, feeling sure that they were giving the red
powder a run for its money. “Arnavji choriye! It’s…it’s the middle of the day! The family will look
for us!” She tried, futilely, to free her pallu from his iron grip.
Arnav stood,
twisted his wrist, wrapping another layer of her pallu around his fist, tugging
her closer into his space. He took a moment to inhale her soft, feminine scent.
“So? Let them.”
Khushi’s
heart raced as he prowled closer, her body frozen in place. She fixed her gaze,
looking at something over his shoulder. “Na…Nani ji, aap?!” Her Arnavji immediately released
her, looking away at the sound of his grandmother’s name. Khushi took advantage
of the diversion she’d created and made a quick escape. Once she was safely outside
their bedroom doors, she paused to look at her husband. His astonishment turned
predatory and she gave him a huge smile before running away, feeling elatedly flustered.
A little
while later, Arnav had made his way back outside to watch the festivities. If
he wanted to be honest, he wasn’t watching the festivities as much as he was
watching his Khushi. He probably looked like a voyeur, if a husband could ever be
called that, while he admired his wife. He watched his little pixie flutter
from person to person, sprinkling her magic fairy dust on everyone, leaving
them enamored with her bubbliness, as contagious as it was. He could’ve sworn
she even glowed, attesting to her ever-ethereal quality. He needed nor sun nor
moon with her in his life. She was the light that illuminated his darkness. He
watched her impish ways as she chased Bhuaji with fistfuls of color while avoiding
her Amma’s loving swats. He, however, stayed a safe distance away, knowing
she'd do something silly, like slip him some bhang, at first chance. There was
no way he was going to act a fool in front of his family for a second year in a
row. He watched her wrap her pallu around and tuck the tail into the front of
her waist. She made some space for herself amongst the bhang makers and took a
seat. He listened to her address them all as “uncle ji” as she spoke of her
bhang making days in Lucknow. Arnav began to wonder how much she’d drank
exactly. Intending to find out immediately, he extracted his wife from the men and
dragged her into the house.
“Arnavji!
But....Holi...the bhang!!”
Arnav
continued to lead her up the steps until she freed herself from his grasp and
began to run ahead of him. Suddenly, she missed a step and almost tumbled down.
But he’d already given in to the chase and hadn’t missed a beat, catching her
close to his chest the moment she fumbled. His Khushi clung to him, almost
desperately tight, as she got over the initial shock of almost falling. He shushed her with soothing words as she
continued to thank him for catching her, clutching him close.
“Arnavji
I...I need to tell....”
Tears had
sprung into his wife’s sparkling eyes. The bhang was obviously getting to her
and he gave her a small smile. “Hey. No tears. I’ll always catch you.” He
smoothed his thumbs over her cheeks to wipe the lingering moisture away. “I’ll
never let you fall Khushi. I’m with you.” Arnav tucked her loose locks behind
her ears and placed a kiss on her forehead. With only a few steps left, he
scooped her up and brought her into their bedroom. Placing her on her feet, he
locked the door behind them. “Khushi, there’s some serious business we need to
discuss.” He watched as she blinked adorably in confusion, resembling a child
that knew they were in trouble. “We need to address this.”
Khushi
watched as her husband pulled out a wrinkled slip of paper from his wallet and
handed it to her. She took in her hastily scribbled signature under the
two-line I.O.U. It was the loan she promised to repay him from the previous year’s
Holi. She smiled brightly, not believing that her Arnavji had kept that little scrap
of paper. “Aap ko ye 300 rupay chahi ye?” (“You need these 300 rupees?”)
Arnav
slowly shook his head at his beautiful wife. It was time for him to stir some
trouble. “No sweetheart. It’s been a year. With interest, you owe me much more than that.”
Khushi
sensed her husband’s mischief and decided to play along. After the rocky
morning they had, she was just glad to have her Arnavji back in a playful mood.
She pretended to pat herself down. “Arnavji I’m sorry I can’t pay you back
right now. Saris don’t come equipped with pockets.”
Arnav
stalked Khushi. With every step he took to approach her, she took one in
retreat, until he had her by the dresser. His gaze dropped to her ripe cherry
lips before meeting hers again, and Khushi quickly turned to face the mirror,
unable to bear his smoldering eyes.
“I’m a
generous husband Khushi. You can pay me back in other ways.” He let his voice
drop to a hoarse rumble, enjoying the way his wife’s breathing had picked up
pace. Keeping her gaze ensnared in the mirror, he reached around and dipped
both his hands in the piles of red powder lying on the silver trays in front of
them. His colored fingers made a slow, sensual trail down her bare, milky arms.
He watched his Khushi’s eyes droop shut as goosebumps appeared along the path
of red color, and he took a moment to ogle her body. He had to admit, his
Khushi was clever and becoming quite the seductress, wearing the same sari she
had when they’d hid away in that abandoned hut in the woods. To this day,
anytime he saw white chiffon, his blood would start pumping faster. “Khushi,
this sari has been driving me crazy all day.” She'd even tied the back of the
blouse into an intricate knot. His fingers itched to untie it.
Khushi
slowly opened her eyes as her skin began to tingle under her husband’s intimate
scrutiny. She watched him through the mirror as he watched her through hooded
eyes. His heated gaze, along with his
heated body, loomed close behind, encasing her in an aura of allure.
Arnav
placed soft, suckling kisses along her nape before he reached up and smeared it
with red powder. His mouth continued to kiss the delicate round slope of her
shoulder and the side of her neck as his hands drew red streaks across the open
back of her choli. Everywhere his mouth touched, his red stained hands
followed, eager to color the white canvas of her skin. When he’d had enough of
exploring her back, he turned her around, cupping her face between his palms to
kiss her like he was starving. His mouth nibbled and pulled at her bottom lip
before his tongue weaved its way into her sweet mouth. With every soft, wet
stroke he apologized for all the times he’d royally fucked up and for every
time he’d been a pompous asshole. When he felt his Khushi clutch at his shirt
front, taking wholly from his kiss, he eased back a breadth. He leaned his
forehead against hers as they silently shared some much needed air. When his
wife placed her hand over his heart, he finally opened his eyes to look at her.
He instantly smiled at the sight of her thoroughly smeared, red cheeks and
watched as she began to slowly open her eyes.
Khushi’s eyelid
flickered rapidly and she let out a sharp protest. Leave it to her to get
something in her eye, yet again! She
reached up a hand to alleviate it.
Arnav
quickly halted her hand. “Wait.” He leaned forward and blew a soft whisper of
air to remove the flecks of red powder away. When she finally stopped
twitching, her eyes fixated onto his, ever so dreamily. Arnav smirked to
himself. He knew he had her. “You know Khushi, for someone who takes pride in
being a ‘Holi champ’, you sure did a crappy job.”
Khushi
snapped out of her trance, thoroughly affronted. “I colored everyone so good!
Even Aman ji!”
Arnav’s
eyebrows scowled involuntarily at the mention of another man’s name, then came
back to the topic at hand. “But you didn’t get me…”
“Yes I did!
I streaked your cheek this morning. You were the first person I colored!”
“But
Khushi, don’t you see? It’s already faded...” Arnav began to slowly unbutton
his shirt, caging her in again. He watched his wife’s eyes follow his hands
until the last button was freed. Taking her hand, he dipped her delicate fingers
in the red powder and placed it in the middle of his own chest.
Khushi eyed
the bare skin peeking out at her between the openings of his shirt. She slowly
traced her stained fingers down that narrow strip of inviting flesh, and her
Arnavji’s hand fell away, allowing her to discard his shirt off to the side. She
didn’t need any direction in this arena. She loved exploring the planes and
carvings of her Arnavji’s body. She colored the line bisecting his pec muscles,
then traced her red fingers around each definition of his toned abdomen. Her
hands continued to absorb his warm skin as she drew along his pelvis, filling
in the deep lines of his v-indentation with the red powder. She traced lower
and lower until she was hindered by the waistband of his pants. Undeterred by
clothing, she detoured her path to circle the vibrant color around his belly
button. She bravely locked eyes with her husband as she reached back and dipped
her palms in the mounds of color. With unwavering eye contact, she placed her
stained hands on his chest, gliding up to his shoulders then around his
neck. Her fingers sifted through his
hair, streaking it red, delving deeper into the silken mane, inviting him
closer.
Arnav’s reddened
hands were busy climbing up his wife’s back, unerringly making their way
towards that teasing knot. He watched in the mirror as he deftly untied it and
it beguilingly unraveled in its flouncy manner. Khushi immediately plastered
herself against him. He knew he’d just undone the restraints to her chest. He
watched the reflection of his hands as they slid across her exposed back,
removing the scrap of her blouse before continuing lower to cup her pert behind.
He pulled and tugged at the wispy white material, liking the way his bronze
skin contrasted against her peaches and cream skin. The way his red palms
stained her sari, creating endless swirls of messy pink. It was a vortex of
vermillion against snow white chiffon, just as he was the torrent that had
invaded her pristine heart. Grasping her hips, he hoisted her onto the dresser,
hiking the remainder of her pleats up and slid her panties off, letting his
intention be known.
Khushi only
had a moment to let out a startled moan and then her Arnavji was on her. His
mouth sensuously conquered her lips as his kiss invaded her soul. She willing
ceded to his persuasive coercion.
Arnav dipped
his hands in the red powder and sensually traced them around his wife’s pretty,
amber areolas. He watched as her nipples pebbled up, begging for his
touch. He eagerly obliged, skimming them with his fingertips before rolling
them with a soft tweak. His Khushi unconsciously parted her thighs, allowing
him space to come even closer.
As her
husband continued to stroke across her nipples and delved in to kiss her mouth,
she nimbly unzipped his fly. Her fingers found his manhood and she fervently
freed him from all confines.
Arnav quickly
encased his own hands over hers. She was in hurry, but he was not. He took his time and guided her hands within his, swirling
his engorged tip up and down her warm, feminine valley, enjoying the way her
eyes rolled back before falling shut. His Khushi expelled rapid breaths with
the softest moans punctuating each one. He then circled her clitoris with his
blunt head, slowly torturing himself but enjoying the way she bucked her hips
in response. He smirked to himself and continued on to tease.
Khushi
watched her Arnavji’s soft, pink lips curve into a sly smile. She could stare
at his mouth for days. That stubble, those lips….she had to
have them. She tilted her face up and caught them between her own, taking
her time to savor his plump bottom lip. Her tongue darted out to lick and taste
and it was keenly met with his own. It was a timeless dance of soft, wet,
velvet strokes. Khushi moaned before taking advantage of the upper hand and
guided her Arnavji into her body.
Arnav let
out a groan from the back of his throat at the feeling of being deeply encased
in his wife’s deliciously slick tightness. Her warm breaths fanned across his
ear before he felt her latch onto his lobe, suckling softly. He felt a spark
zip down his spine, straight into his groin. His hands came up to grip her
thighs, holding her open as he rocked back and forth, in and out of his Khushi’s
body.
Khushi
wrapped one arm around her husband and held onto the dresser with the other.
The little trinkets sitting on the dresser rattled off onto the floor as her
husband brought her closer and closer to the ultimate euphoria. She loved this
man unconditionally, and loved when their bodies were joined like this. They
were connected as only a man and wife were meant to be, becoming wholly one, in
search of a mutual bliss. She felt the beginning of that sweet, sharp ache
unravel within her, and she cried out to her husband. “Arnavji!” He opened his eyes just as she climaxed. Khushi couldn’t look
away as his whiskey irises darkened into a malt scotch. She persistently clenched
his girth until she felt his release within her.
Arnav
recouped enough to find the energy to lift his limp wife and take her over to
the bed and lie her down. She made quite a vision in her state of half-dress
with splotches of red powder all over her, thanks to the craftiness of his own
hands. He continued to slip the remainder of that alluring white chiffon off
her hips. Finding a patch of unstained material, he used that bit of her sari
to clean the excess red powder off her face. As much as he’d enjoyed painting
it, he much preferred to see his Khushi as her natural beautiful self. When his
gaze fell onto hers, he noted that her eyes had misted up again. “Khushi, how
much bhang did you drink?” His wife averted his gaze and looked everywhere but
at him. Arnav gently held her chin to make her look his way. “Tell me. How much?”
“Devi Maiya
ki kassam (I swear), not a drop.”
“Maybe
someone slipped you some by claiming it was tandhai.” Arnav recalled how his
wife had done that very same trickery on him last year.
“I didn’t
drink any tandhai either…” Khushi’s
heart beat frantically as her eyes continued to well up.
“Khushi,
mujhe patha hai ke tum sanki ho, Bhuaji ne tumara sai naam rakha hai. (Khushi I
know you’re a bit crazy, Bhuaji nicknamed you appropriately.) But this is a bit
much even for you.” His wife shook her head and closed her eyes. Arnav felt his
heart constrict. He had to find the reason his wife was feeling this way. “Khushi,
why so emotional?? Holi is one of your favorite holidays.”
“Ar…Arnavji….I….”
“What is it
Khushi? Tell me. Please.” Arnav stroked her hair away from her face as his eyes
searched hers.
“Arnavji….I’m pregnant. Aap…aap Papa ban
ne vale ho…. (You’re…you’re going to be a father…)”
Arnav’s
world spun yet time somehow stood still, all at once. And then it dawned on him
as to why she’d stayed away from all the drinks being made. And why she'd been
so startled when she'd almost fell at the stairs earlier in the afternoon. Her
softly whispered words echoed through his mind “We've come so, so far. So far that you don’t even know….” Arnav locked eyes with the woman who always
bestowed him with insurmountable happiness. “Khushi, really? We're going to be
parents?” His wife gave him a nod, her eyes pooling with tears again. Arnav
couldn’t help his disbelief as he pointed in the general direction of her
stomach. “Right now?? In here??” His voice cracked, relaying his emotion. As
his own eyes went bleary, he leaned forward to kiss his Khushi’s eyelids. His
heart burst with joy and his happiness went unchecked as he showered her face
with soft kisses to convey what words were failing to express. She let out a
happy, tearful smile at his reaction. Arnav wiped at his wife’s tears and
pressed more soft kisses onto her face. “Khushi I love you so much.”
“I love you
too.” Khushi felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. This morning
she’d woken with an underlying mixture of excitement and anxiety over the
prospect of telling her husband he was going to be a father. She was ecstatic
from the moment she’d found out yesterday, but wasn’t sure how her Arnavji
would feel. Now knowing that he was as elated as her, she felt immense relief
and could whole heartedly bask in the new discovery.
Arnav
kissed his wife before taking her hand and reaching over to the piles of color
sitting on their bed stand. Entwining their fingers as if it were one hand, he
dipped both their fingers into the pink and blue powders. Sliding down the bed,
he placed a lingering kiss on her still-flat tummy as he used their fingers to
swipe the colors across her abdomen. His hand continued to caress over it
more fully as he rested his head there, listening to his wife and child
breathing in unison. Wanting to talk to the little miracle growing inside his
wife, he gently placed his lips against the skin of her stomach. “Happy Holi,
little one. I can’t wait to meet you.”
