Changing Shades - 5

Chapter 5 

“Manish!”

Manish stood at the door, holding a small bunch of roses. He looked awkwardly at her, saw her face fall, and his own was puzzled. “Hi, can I come in?”

Khushi flushed, and stood aside abruptly. 

“Yes, yes, of course!”

She stepped back to allow him in, suddenly shy. This was the man she had just agreed to marry. She had known him all her life, as a boy in short pants, then as an awkward adolescent, and now as a self-confident young man, and suddenly she was shy of him!

“Khushi?” then again, when she did not answer,“Khushi?”

“What?”     

He looked at her face. “Hey, what's wrong? You did say yes, didn't you?”

That made her laugh in spite of herself, and he relaxed.

“Phew! For a moment there, you had me worried, Khushi! Khushi,” suddenly he was close to her, very close, “Khushi, you do love me, don't you? You know I'm mad about you, I always have been.”

“Now that's a lie,” she accused, laughing, stepping away from him. “You have definitely not been always in love with me. Not when we were kids and I used to swing on the swing in your house. You used to push me off. Then when I ate all your chocolates, and your mom said they were anyway for me, you wanted to kill me with your air gun. Then, when…”

“Stop, stop!” Manish laughed with her. “We were kids then. Now,” he was close to her again, and his eyes glittered strangely. “Now we're not kids any more. I've been in love with you since you came to college, and started tussling with Arnav for top place. I used to feel so proud every time you got the better of him, every time someone said you were the best looking, the smartest, in the college. The best girl in the college and you're mine. You always have been, and now you always will be.”

He held her close, his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She twisted a little, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. It struck her suddenly that they had never been this close before. They had hugged casually ... group hugs, light,friendly hugs ... but this ... This was different. And she wasn't sure she was ready for it.

She tried to pull away, murmuring,“Chacha will come …”

“No, he won't,” Manish answered softly. “I left him with mom and dad, having tea. It's difficult to decide who was the most pleased among that lot! So you can stop feeling shy and come close.”

He pulled her again and she gave up and stood unresisting in his arms.

That seemed to be the way she was the next ten days. Unresisting. Everything happened around her, and it was like a dream, as though it was happening to somebody else. New clothes arrived, the house was painted, decorated, all their friends were told, and they declared they had known it all along, everything was in a bustle, and time seemed to fly till it was just two days before the engagement.

Then Arnav came back.   

Khushi had stopped resisting, stopped questioning what was happening. The small spark of restlessness, of rebellion she had told Arnav about, seemed to have died with his going, and with the knowledge that he, too, was getting engaged. Why that should be so, she refused to think about. Her own fate seemed so certain, her life so completely mapped that she stopped thinking about it, much less questioning it. After they graduated, she and Manish would get married. She would join the firm of architects in which her uncle worked as a low level manager, the firm owned and run by Manish's parents, and which he would one day take over. And maybe, she thought, once she got married and fulfilled the dearest wish of Manish's mother, and started working with Manish and his father, she could pay off the enormous debt of gratitude she and her uncle owed Manish's parents.  And his parents had been delighted. While not admitting it to the world, they were quietly disappointed that their son showed no trace of the genius of his father, and were delighted to find that talent in Khushi, whom they looked after like a favourite niece. When Manish declared his interest in her to his parents, they overwhelmed Khushi with their joy in the forthcoming union. Khushi was swamped by their happiness. She did not even stop to think if she had indeed found her own happiness, her own partner in life. And even if she had, the thought of disappointing them and Manish could not arise, regardless of her own wishes or dreams. Their dreams had to be given priority over hers, their happiness over her own.

Then Arnav came back, and got the news of the engagement. He did not say anything when he was first told. He congratulated her and Manish quietly, and shrugged off the boisterous questions about his own engagement. They all decided to take the day off when he came back and went out for a picnic, all of them teasing her and Manish about the curfews that were shortly to be clamped on their meetings. All except Arnav. He was silent most of the time, not joining in the banter actively, but looking at Khushi often. And when they all went strolling over the hills, she didn't quite know how it happened, but she found herself strolling away from the others with him.

Khushi was restless. The state of unresisting acceptance she had been in, seemed to have vanished the moment Arnav got back and she saw the look of incredulity in his eyes when he was given the news.   Strangely, she seemed to owe him some explanation. Besides, she needed to talk to him, to share some of the feelings which were disturbing her so much. She had clamped down firmly on them and put them away, but the moment she saw Arnav, they all came tumbling to the forefront. She tried not to think too deeply why this was so. Arnav was her friend, her best friend, and he was the one she always needed to talk to, she could talk to. But, surprisingly, although she had been waiting to see him, when the time came, she found herself tongue-tied, unable to bring up the subject. Till he brought it up himself.

“Khushi?”

“Mmmm?”

“Are you happy?”

She looked at him, not really surprised that he should be the one to ask this. She thought for a bit, her eyes on his face almost absently.

“You know, you're the first person to have asked me this,” she said. ‘Everybody seems to have taken it for granted that I should be absolutely delighted.”

“Should you be?" Arnav asked, his eyes serious on her face.  "Why?”

She smiled a little bitterly. “It's obvious, isn't it? Poor little girl makes it good. Marries the son of her father's boss. My life's made. I'll be rich, have a young good-looking husband, a beautiful big house, cars, servants, inlaws who dote on me, and the icing on the cake – my own company to run. Everything a girl could possibly want. Why should I be unhappy?”

He seemed to ignore the slight bitterness in her voice, and answered her question with his own.

“I don't know,” he said. “Why are you unhappy?”

“I'm not unhappy,” she said, fiercely. She was not. She wasn't unhappy. She was restless, she was unsure ... but Arnav was getting married, and he hadn't told her anything ... that didn't mean she was unhappy. 

As usual, Arnav seemed to look through her words to the thoughts churning underneath. And as usual, he put them into words for her. Words she had not managed to find for herself.

“Then why do you look so restless?”

Khushi shrugged. He was getting married. Their friendship would not be the same again. She couldn't take him for granted any more, couldn't use him as her sounding board. She had to sort things through herself. 

So she tried to answer unconcernedly. 

“Oh, I think it's everything combined. The exams were tough, the engagement is so soon after, that I haven't had time to prepare myself…”

Arnav interrupted with the first touch of impatience in his voice. Impatience ... and was there something more? 

“Prepare yourself to marry the boy you love?” he asked, cynically. “I shouldn't have thought that needed much preparation. Especially with all the icing on the cake to sweeten the love.”

She looked at him, surprised at his tone, his cynical comment barely hiding his simmering anger.

“What are you implying, Arnav? Are you like the others? Do you also think I'm marrying Manish because of what he can give me?”

“Are you marrying Manish because you love him?” he countered.

She stopped short.

“I don't know if I love him,” she muttered, half to herself. If I love him, why do your reactions, your feelings make such a difference to me? Why am I so disappointed, so let-down, with your response? But she didn't voice her thoughts.

“Why don't you know?” he persisted. “Haven't you known him long enough?”

Khushi smiled slightly.

“Maybe that's the trouble. I've known him too long. He's always been around in my life, sometimes on the fringes, sometimes, as in these last few years, very much a part of my everyday life. He's there. Do I love him? I don't know. He's just there. I think I'd miss him if he wasn't, but is that all there is to love?”

 “I think,” said Arnav deliberately, almost harshly, “that you don’t know him well enough.”

Khushi stared at him.

“What do you mean, Arnav? I've known him almost all my life. My father used to work for Uncle Dewan before he died, remember? I’ve known Manish since we were both seven!”

“I said you don’t know him well enough, Khushi,” said Arnav. “Not ‘not long’ enough. I don't think you know Manish at all. Yes, you've known him all your life. You've known him as a child. In college, you've known him as part of a group, as a friend among other friends. Have you been especially close to him, rather than any of the others? I don't think so. You have never known him alone, what kind of person he is, what kind of man he is, whether he is the one you love, or can love as a husband, as a life partner. That's different from being friends. You need to get to know him on his own, apart from the group.”

 “I have, in the last two weeks,” she said quietly. 

Arnav stopped, and looked at her.

“Then, if you've made up your mind, why these doubts? What do you want me to say?”

“I don't know,” Khushi said, unhappily. “I don’t know why these doubts. Why am I feeling this way? Tell me, Arnav. You’ve always been able to help me when I needed you. I needed you when his parents came with the proposal. I came to your hostel to talk to you. But you had gone to Bombay to get engaged, and that was like a slap on my face. I felt your absence was telling me that this was one decision I had to make on my own. So I did. But I still need you to tell me that I've made the right decision.”

Arnav looked away, his eyes cold. 

“You expect too much, Khushi,” he said. “I can't tell you that. You're right – this is one choice I can't help you with. Your heart has to tell you. I can only tell you what I still believe. You don't know Manish well enough, oh, despite all the time you have spent with him. And you definitely don't love him, not the way a girl loves her husband-to-be. I mean, you think of him as part of the furniture, for heaven's sake. Used to him! Might miss him if he's not around! Are you marrying a man you love, or acquiring a pet dog?”

Khushi smiled uncertainly, not sure whether he was joking or serious. “Be serious, Arnav, please.”

Arnav stopped walking and turned her to face him. “I'm not being funny, Khushi.” He spoke forcefully and urgently, and she stared at him, bewildered by his sudden change in tone. “I am not being funny in the least, You are not in love with Manish. You love and respect his parents, the wonderful people who gave you help and support when you needed it, and you are grateful to them. But gratitude is not the correct foundation on which to build your life, Khushi. You are repaying their gratitude by doing well at college, by working with them, when you didn't even want to – do you have to sign over your life to them as well?”

“I'm not signing over my life to them,” said Khushi hotly. “In fact, they are giving me a home, a family, a place and a chance to work, no questions asked, after all that they have already done for me. And I do care for Manish.”

“They are not doing you a favour by having you work with the family firm,” said Arnav forcefully. “Uncle is an extremely intelligent person, and he knows that Manish cannot take over the firm, not now, not ever. He just does not have the capability, the vision, the drive. You do. The fact that you are ready to marry their son is a bonus. They need you, not the other way around, make no mistake. And by your marrying Manish, they all will be happily able to disguise his incompetence with your talent. Oh, yes, they need you, and they are doing this so cleverly, making it look the other way around, that it is them who are doing you this big favour.”

“Don't talk like this, Arnav,” cried Khushi “What's gotten into you? I thought you were Manish's friend! You talk as though you hate them!”

He clenched his hands on her shoulders.

“What’s gotten into me?” retorted Arnav savagely. “Do you really not know what’s gotten into me, Khushi? I'm disappointed in you, Khushi. I’m looking for that girl I saw in you, the girl who had dreams, who had goals, who knew her mind, yet cared enough for the people around her to temper her own dreams with pragmatism. The girl who had a spark in her … I'm looking for that fire, that spirit! But that girl seems to have vanished! Where has she gone?! Manish and his parents are walking roughshod over you, and you’re letting them take over your life – and I'm asking you, why?! Uncle and Aunty want you to marry Manish, he wants to marry you, so you agreed. What about what you want? What happened to that resistance, that dissatisfaction in you, that feeling of being pushed into doing something you didn't really want to do?  Do you really want to marry him, or is it only that you are so bowed down by gratitude, that you cannot think of refusing Manish, because he happens to be their precious son? Think about it, Khushi. Don't throw yourself away, don't take this step when you don’t love him.”

“I know him, he is a good friend, and I will learn to love him in time,” said Khushi, numbly, but she spoke as though she was trying to convince herself.

Arnav’s hands gentled on her shoulders. His face, his tone was calmer now.

“Are you sure?”

She looked up at him agonizingly.

“Don't ask me these questions now, Arnav. Our engagement is two days away.”

“I wouldn’t have asked you these questions if you had not said that you didn't know if you were happy or not,” Arnav replied, and Khushi replied sharply.

“You're putting words into my mouth. I didn't say that.”

“What did you say, then, Khushi? More important, what did you mean?”

“I said…,” she stopped.   

He sighed and looked away from her. Then he let go her shoulders and turned away from her. His face looked defeated suddenly, haggard and tired, and she hated that. His voice, when he spoke, was tired too.

“What do you actually want, Khushi? Do you really know? Do you understand yourself, your own feelings? I thought I knew you, but do you know yourself? First you tell me that you’re marrying Manish, that you think you know him, that you’ll be happy with him. And now you say you’re not sure you’re happy. What do you feel, Khushi? Dil se? Look into your heart and tell me the truth – more than that, tell yourself the truth! I thought you felt the same way …”

“What way?” she asked sharply. He turned back to her and there was a strange look in his eyes, a leaping fire in the molten caramel depths.

“You know – when I heard - I felt angry that you were throwing yourself away on Manish. I felt that he didn't deserve you, that he doesn't love you, that he is marrying you only to please his parents. But I kept quiet because I thought I was mistaken in what I saw, I wanted to see something that wasn't there. I thought it was me who was mistaking friendship for something more. You would not be marrying Manish unless you were sure of your feelings for him. But today you said that you have your doubts too – Khushi, if you have doubts, don't do it. Back away now. You deserve more than…”

He broke off, and grasped her by the shoulders. For long moments, he looked at her and she stared back at him. There was no mistaking the look in his eyes, as they burned into hers.

Khushi couldn't move. His hands held her gently, she could have moved away any time she wanted, but she seemed to be held immobile by the sheer force of his look. She did not know when his hands left her shoulders to move gently up and cup her face, his thumbs moving over her lips, tracing their outline, caressing them, touching them. And then his head bent, and he pulled her into his arms fiercely, and his lips touched hers for the first time.

They touched and lifted, then came down strongly, taking her mouth in a kiss deep and long, a kiss that seemed to go on and on, that seemed to draw her soul from her. His hands left her face to go around her, and her hands went up into his hair to hold his face down to hers, to deepen and lengthen the kiss. She was not merely unresisting, she was responding. She had never felt this way with Manish ….