Making Her Mine- An IPKKND story.

Chapter 15 - Bathtime!

"Will you have tea?" Buaji asked when she saw Arnav.

"No, Buaji, I'll take a bath first," he replied, and leaving his shoes at the door, went to Khushi's room to get his towel and clothes.

He hadn't really noticed her room yesterday; he had been distracted, first by the commotion with the air conditioner and later by Khushi and their whole ordeal with the tiny bed.

He stared at the poster of Salman Khan in a bright red wife beater, his lips unnaturally pink, on the far wall. Looking around, he saw another poster—this one was a large picture of a palanquin, with a cutout of Salman Khan on one end and one of Khushi on the other.

Bewildered, Arnav went to look closer. It was a terribly unflattering photo of Khushi—her hair was slicked back tight, and she was wearing an unfocused expression, half-smiling, one tooth gleaming over her bottom lip.

"She's crazy," he muttered, shaking his head.

She had put up an almost equally horrible poster of Salman Khan in his room—in which he was wearing the gaudiest red leather vest Arnav had ever seen. Clearly, she liked Salman Khan in red. Chuckling, he looked around the room.

She had hung a collection of brightly colored decorative yarn hangings over her four-poster bed, along with some sparkly plastic stars. She had once told him she hung stars over her bed because they reminded her of her parents. She thought they had become stars. He wondered if she talked to them.

She talked to herself incessantly, muttering away like a crazy person. And she talked to Devi Maiyya, although he hadn't seen her do that for a while. She had taken to rambling endlessly to Laxmi, Nani-ji's pet goat, quite a bit recently.

The parcels he had asked Aman to send were heaped up against the wall near the wardrobe. After the awkwardness yesterday, he hadn't opened them. He sorted through them now—more towels than he needed and toiletries to last a whole year. Aman went overboard, sometimes on purpose, it seemed.

There was an additional bag with some boxes—the sarees and kurta he had asked for. He examined them, mentally appreciating his manager's good sense. The clothes were from AR's collection, expensive without being too flashy, good quality material but also not too 'fashion forward'—something he could see Garima Aunty, Buaji, and Shashi Uncle wearing.

He took them and went outside. Garima Aunty was in the kitchen.

"Uhhh—Aunty, I had brought some things..." Arnav said, suddenly embarrassed for some reason.

She looked at the bag in his hands with surprised curiosity. "What is it, son?"

"Uh—just—um—something for you and Buaji and Uncle—because I—this is—" he held out the bag. She took it, and pulling out the boxes, looked inside.

"Oh, there was no need for all this, beta," she said in her mild voice, but with a smile and glowing eyes. "They're very beautiful." She touched his cheek gently. Another lump formed in his throat; god knew why.

"They're from AR..." he began, and realized he didn't know what he wanted to say. "Er—Aunty, I'm not sick... you don't have to cook something separate for me."

She giggled at this. "I was thinking the same thing."

"Well, I'll go have a bath then."

"Yes, go. Oh, son, the water shuts off at 9:30, so you have to hurry."

It was already 9:15. Alarmed, Arnav hurried away.

Khushi was in the bathroom, taking her sweet time. "Khushi," he said, knocking on the door. "Can you hurry up, please?"

She didn't hurry. By the time she was out, it was 9:25.

"Khushi, I'm all sweaty!" he complained when she emerged, smelling of sandalwood. "Aunty said the water shuts off at 9:30."

"Oh, did she?" Khushi looked disappointed.

"You weren't going to tell me!" Arnav said, indignant. She liked shutting off the water supply while he was having a bath just to annoy him. She shrugged and pranced away.

Not enough time! He looked in the bathroom. There was a large empty bucket. She hadn't even filled it with water. He sighed angrily, turned on the tap, and went to find Garima Aunty.

"Is there any more water somewhere, Aunty?" he asked. "I don't think there will be enough."

"Oh, there's a hand pump outside; I'll go fetch some for you," she said, wiping her hands on a towel and picking up another large bucket from under the kitchen counter.

"I'll do it," he said quickly, taking the bucket from her. "Just tell me where to go."

"Oh no, I can't let you go fetch water like that," she was saying, not letting go of the bucket.

"No, it's fine, Aunty, really. Just tell me where to go; I don't mind."

She pointed out the hand pump, a little away from the house, and he hurried out.

A skinny man was soaping himself and an equally skinny boy under the outdoor tap.

"Came for a bath, Damaad Ji?" a woman asked as he approached. Arnav glanced at her—one of the younger women who had come to the house yesterday.

"Er—no, I'm just going to fill this," he said, lifting the bucket. The woman hurried over and helpfully got the public bathers to make way for his bucket. "Why don't you just wash here? It's much easier," she said as they watched the bucket fill.

Arnav shuddered at the idea. "Er—no, that's okay. Thank you." She had been helpful, even if it had been in an aggressively nosy way.