Rang (Colors)

“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.”