The Wrong Name
Wedding Day: Morning
‘Hai re Nandkisore!’ Buaji facepalmed. ‘Have the Raizadas sent the haldi water yet or not?’
Shyam got out of the car in front of the Gupta house. His stomach churned, his head ached, and he had to swallow the bile constantly rising in his throat. Having to deliver her clothes and haldi was making him physically sick!
‘Shall we go, Damaadji?’ said Mamaji getting out of the passenger seat.
The two of them opened the trunk and took out the shagun for the haldi as well as the joda for each girl. Shyam took the ones meant for Khushi. Mamaji took the ones for Payal - after all, she was going to be his bahu. They approached the front door which was wide open. Inside was a scene of chaos.
They stood at the door waiting for someone to see them. Garima did.
‘Come in, please,’ she said, smiling widely. ‘Is that the haldi and the jodas?’
They came in and sat down. Buaji came in bustling and sat down with them.
‘Would you like some tea?’ asked Garima.
‘No, thank you,’ said mamaji. ‘Sorry we got delayed, but you know how it is in a house with two weddings,’ he smiled.
‘Yes, of course,’ said Buaji.
Shyam looked around hoping to catch a glimpse of Khushi. It didn’t go unnoticed by Garima.
‘Kisey dhundat ho, bitwa?’ she asked him kindly. Who are you looking for?
‘Umm... no one,’ said Shyam, feeling like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
‘That joda is Payal bitiya’s,’ said Mamaji, ‘and this one is Khushi bitiya’s,’ mamaji pointed to hers.
‘Okay, thank you,’ said Garima gratefully, looking at the pile of clothes and jewelry boxes accompanying them.
‘You know, Arnav bitwa has designed all of Khushi’s clothes and jewelry,’ mamaji said proudly. Buaji and Garima nodded wide-eyed. Their damaad made women’s clothes and designed bitiya’s also?! They were in awe!
‘Come, damaadji, we should be going,’ said mamaji, standing up. Shyam stood up too, having stayed tongue-tied all this while.
They left without catching a glimpse of the elusive Khushi.
Wedding Day: Late Afternoon
‘Rani Sahiba,’ he said. ‘You look beautiful.’
She simpered. ‘Thank you, Shyamji. But why haven’t you changed yet? We have to leave for the venue in half an hour.’
‘Are you wearing this for the wedding?’
‘Yes, do you like it?’ she pirouetted for him, to show off the deep purple and green net saree she’d selected to wear for the wedding, the large peacock earrings swinging from her ears.
‘Hmmm ... something is missing,’ he said.
‘What?’ she looked scandalized!
‘Wait,’ he said, moving over to his bag.
‘What is it?’ she asked as he turned around with something in his hand.
‘Something I would like you to wear today, Rani Sahiba, so that near or far, I can always feel you,’ he replied.
She smiled coyly, eyelids lowered, as he walked around her, spritzing her liberally with the bottle in his hand. The perfume of vanilla and citrus rose in the air. He breathed in deeply. Ah! Shalimar!
Wedding Day: Evening
He watched in abject misery while Arnav leaned over and gently moved Khushi’s maang-tika aside, before filling her parting with the bright color of sindoor. A few drops landed on her nose. Arnav went to wipe it off, when Anjali teasingly said, ‘Chotey, that just shows how much you love her.’ Shyam gritted his teeth at his wife’s grating voice.
The wedding was over. Arnav and Khushi were now officially man and wife. Anjali helped them up. He gathered his wife in his arms and kissed her on her forehead, just below the sindoor that he’d placed with so much love in her parting, as the whole crowd, except one person cheered and wolf-whistled.
They stood side by side as the wedding for Akash and Payal commenced. Arnav couldn’t take his eyes off his wife, though, even to pay attention to his brother’s wedding.
She glowed in the crimson lehenga choli he had designed for her. It was all red, but her veil was a dark green, all the delicate embroidery in gold. Her jewelry was all diamonds and emeralds - interspersed with rubies, one large one at her throat. With the mangalsutra around her neck and the sindoor in her hair, she glowed as she looked up at her new husband.
Shyam glowered as he looked at her new husband. He had failed. Failed miserably. Tears filled his eyes. His life was shattered. Arnav may have made her his, but her heart would always be with him, he thought. He couldn’t help his beautiful bird now. It saddened him immensely. A sadness that rose from his gut and came up his throat. The pain in his heart was ... stabbing him.
Finally the weddings were over, the guests departed, the bidaai was over, and the Raizada clan had returned home with their two newest members.
Shyam sat morosely on a chair watching everybody participate excitedly in the games. He didn’t have the energy to play and had excused himself from them.
Anjali came over to him. ‘Shyamji, come. We have one more task left to do,’ she said, holding out her hand to him.
He sighed and got up and followed her.
They went to Akash’s room first and made sure all the candles were lit, before heading over to Arnav’s room. Like Akash’s room, this one had been converted into a room full of light and color and flowers, the reds and whites stark against the neutral tones of the decor. They lit the candles, and scattered rose petals on the bed. Everything was perfect for the suhaag raat of Arnav and Khushi. And he had a hand in it, he thought, scrunching his face with the pain in his chest.
Anjali took one last look around as Mamiji brought Khushi to the room. Shyam watched from the side as Anjali and Mami helped Khushi sit on the flower-bedecked and strewn bed, drawing her veil over her head so only her nose and chin were visible, her hands clasped over her raised knees. He took one last look at her, printing that image in his mind, before he turned around and walked away, only to see Arnav and Akash coming up the stairs to go to their respective brides.
Continuation from IF. Read on only if you're an adult.
He entered the room slowly and shut and locked the doors. The only light came from the candles, and the light above the dressing table. She sat in front of it. She’d already started taking her jewelry off, her hands raised to take off her earring as she spotted him in the mirror. She knew that dark look in his eyes and blushed as her eyes met his. He smiled and came towards her, lifting her up from the chair. Slowly he took off her earrings, kissing the slight redness in the earlobes from the weight of them. Turning her around, he unhooked her necklace, letting it slide down into his hand just above the neckline of her choli.
His heart was pounding as he slowly untied the dori at the back of her choli, Unable to control himself any longer, he placed a languid kiss on her back, his lips and tongue finding the long lines of her spine.
She shuddered at the warmth of his mouth. She loved when he did that. Her back was so sensitive, and he knew how to use it. She turned around then, reaching for the buttons on his sherwani, undoing them slowly, ever so slowly, as she held his eyes, watching his breathing intensify as her fingers brushed against his skin every now and then.
He held her hands then, stopping her, before taking off the sherwani himself, proudly displaying himself to her. The smooth chest, the rock hard abs, the sculpted lines of his pectorals. She ran her hands over his chest, looking at him, before bending down and taking one small nipple in her mouth.
He gasped. Held her head and kissed her. A long deep kiss. An open-mouthed, tongue-clashing, saliva-swapping, tonsil-tickling kiss. She groaned into this mouth, her bare breasts coming into contact with his bare chest, as he wrapped his arms around her, the muscles bunching in his biceps as he did so.
He pulled back and lifted her up in his arms, taking her to their bed, and laying her gently down on it. Quickly, he removed the rest of their clothes. Her eyes darkened and she licked her lips taking in the sight before her, hard and aroused and ready. He slid into bed beside her, holding her close, skin to skin as he kissed her again, his knee nudging her feet apart. He worshipped at the altar of her breasts, hearing the small moaning sounds she made, his head completely clouded with desire now. His hand reached down to find her core, slick and ready for him; he rubbed lightly as she gasped in pleasure. She was ready for him, so ready, he could feel her dripping off his fingers. He rolled on top of her, her legs came up around his waist, as he slid into her, to hear her keening cry.
Their arms and legs tangled, the heat within turned feverish, sweat slickened their bodies as they strove and strove together, urging each other to reach that one point - la petit mort - the little death. And as they fell over the precipice together, he called her name harshly, ‘Khushiiiii!!’
The Morning After:
Shyam Manohar Jha woke up and lay in bed looking up at the ceiling. A small smile came unbidden to his lips. He sat up in bed and raked his fingers through his head before he caught sight of his wife, sitting at the Egyptian chair in her room. She was dressed in a bright fuchsia sari, her hair severely tied back in a plait. Her arms were folded and she was glaring at him, breathing heavily through her nose, her tiny breasts rising and falling with each breath. At her feet sat two suitcases, and by the looks of them they were packed.
‘Rani Sahiba?’ he looked at her in puzzlement. ‘What’s all this?’ he waved at the suitcases. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ she said, pausing for effect. ‘You are!’
She got up and came towards the bed, picked up a shirt and trousers along the way and threw them at him. ‘Get dressed,’ she snapped.
‘Rani Sahiba, but..? What? I don’t understand?’ he grabbed the shirt and pants and quickly started dressing.
‘You don’t understand?’ she screamed. ‘What I don’t understand is how you don’t know which woman you’re sleeping with!’
‘Last night. Do you remember it at all?’ She screeched.
‘What?’ fragments of the night before came into his mind. But two and two were still not adding up to four.
‘You thought I was Khushiji? KHUSHIJI?! My brother’s WIFE?!!’ She was panting in anger now, red flags in her cheeks. She was furious. ‘My brother.. .just got married.. and you are fantasizing about his WIFE?’ She picked up a vase and moved towards him. ‘When you’re in bed with ... with ME?!’
‘Rani Sahiba, listen to me,’ he ran to the other side of the room as she followed him relentlessly, while he struggled to get his clothes on.
‘No, you listen to me. How dare you think that I would let you take another woman’s name when we are .. are ...’ she was unable to finish the sentence, and shook her head in disbelief.
‘That too, my brother’s WIFE? You disgust me!’ she screamed again. ‘You are out. NOW!!’ she said, throwing the vase at him, before pointing to the door. ‘Get out!’
He walked towards the door, still pleading, begging his case.
She came towards him, pushing him out the door.
‘Didn’t you hear me? I said GET OUT!!’ she yelled. Marching back to the room, she picked up a suitcase and tossed it down the stairs, before going for the second one.
‘Rani Sahiba!’ he called one last time, before another suitcase came flying by his head.
The crash echoed through the halls of Raizada Mansion, disturbing the early morning peace of its occupants.
Arnav lifted his head from kissing Khushi and listened. Shouting. His Di was shouting. They quickly got out of bed and dressed in a hurry, before he opened the door. Only to see a suitcase go by. He looked towards his sister’s room.
Anjali stood at the door, tears streaking her face, sobbing into her hands that covered her mouth.
Khushi and he ran to her. ‘Di!’
‘Chotey!’ she said, before collapsing against his chest. He wrapped his arms strongly around her, as Khushi rubbed her back.
Shyam stood at the head of the stairs, with a shocked look on his face. The entire family was out of their rooms now, standing around staring at the mayhem around them.
‘Hello, hi, bye, bye,’ said Mamiji, taking stock of the situation. ‘What happened, Anjali bitiya? What did Damaadji do that you’re throwing him out?’
She shook her head against Arnav’s chest. ‘I can’t say, Mamiji. But this much I can tell you, I can’t live with this ... this ... DISGUSTING man!’
Arnav’s jaws clenched. What had Shyam done that his Di was in this state? Had he told her about Khushi? His eyes met Akash’s as his brother also came and stood next to Anjali, while Payal held on to a shaken Khushi.
‘What have you done to my sister?’ he growled at Shyam, handing Di over to Akash. He prowled over to where Shyam stood, towering over him, anger crashing off him in waves.
Shyam cowered at the frightening sight of his brother-in-law in full-blown rage. He’d heard about his famous temper and seen it too. For the first time, he was on the receiving end of it.
Arnav reached out a hand, and grabbed his throat. ‘What did you do?’ he gritted out through clenched teeth, his big fingers squeezing painfully on Shyam’s windpipe.
‘No. nothing, Saaley Saab,’ Shyam whined and choked. ‘I don’t know what happened to your Di all of a sudden.’
‘My Di doesn’t do things all of a sudden, Jeejaji,’ he said the name sarcastically. ‘So how did she find out about Khushi?’ he took a pot shot in the dark, keeping his voice low so only Shyam could hear him.
‘I .. I .. truly don’t know. This morning ... ‘ he tried to swallow through his dry throat. ‘This morning, she was angry .. crazy angry about something .. I don’t know .. believe me, Saaley Saab,’ he croaked.
‘You don’t know?’ Arnav raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
‘I mean .. yes .. no .. I don’t,’ Shyam gasped.
Arnav searched his face before hls lips lifted in a cruel smile. ‘I believe I heard my sister say get out?’ his voice was soft, menacing. He turned around, ‘Akash?’ he called.
‘Yes, Bhai,’ Akash knew exactly what his brother was asking for. He handed over Anjali to his mother who was hovering at his shoulder, before heading to his room. He came back with a sheaf of papers and a pen, and held them out to Shyam.
‘Divorce papers, Jeejaji,’ said Arnav. He shook Shyam by his throat, like a lion shaking its prey. ‘Qubool hai?’ and shook him again.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Shyam. ‘Qubool hai!’ knowing that he had finally, irrevocably lost.
Arnav pushed him away, and watched with folded arms as Shyam signed the papers with shaking hands. He snatched the papers away and then said, ‘Get out ... Shyam!’ deliberately using his name, underlining that the relationship was over.
Shyam stared at him. He opened his mouth to make one last plea.
‘I said GET OUT!!’ Arnav yelled.
Shyam flinched before bending down and picking up his two suitcases. He walked down the stairs slowly, and like an old man, shuffled out of Raizada Mansion and their lives. For good.
Happy Valentine’s Day, Y’all!!
‘Qubool Hai, Ritzyji!’ You’re responsible for this one!!
IPK was full of iconic moments and dialogs that even in our daily lives we are reminded of the magic that was created on screen. The idea to take on an IPK scene and twist it came naturally. How? Why? I don’t know.
This story is twisted undoubtedly and Twisted_Beenz is my inspiration.
We wanted more gutter in IPK, and Payal is my guide and mentor here. Need I say more?
But the final part of this story is the ultimate gutter. I’ve tried to keep it as clean as I can, so you all can enjoy it, but somethings can’t be clean. Hopefully, you will understand as I reveal why I called this story the Wrong Name.
As this story comes to a close, I want to thank all of you who liked and commented on it. It’s incredibly satisfying and encouraging to read all that you have to say. I don’t respond to the comments simply because it would be unfair not to respond to each and every one. But believe me, I read every single one of them and I love you all for it.
Will I be writing another IPK fan fic? I doubt it. Sorry. But I will be writing more. And I hope you will come to my blog - My Creative Outlet. The Link is below the navigator.