Aamcha Khajina – Thipkyanchi Rangoli

“Ekda sangitla na tya bag pasun lamb raha mhanun? Kalat nahi tula? Pratyek goshtit hatta karaylach hava? Shishta kuthli!”

“Shishta kuthli? SHISHTA KUTHLI? Eka bag saathi aaj itkya divasanantar tu mala Shishta mhanalas? Eka bag saathi? Khadoos kuthla! Aata tar mi nahich denar bag! Baghu de na mala hi asa konta khajina lapavun thevla aahes te!”

“APURVA, NAHI!” His grip on the bag grew stronger when she tried to pull it to herself. 

“Ka nahi? Ka nahi?” She frowned, putting in her entire strength to pull that bag to herself. “Khadoos… navra-bayko madhe secrets nastat… mahiti nahi tula?”

“Jevha Netra chi birthday party aaplya wadyat plan keli hoti… mala na sangta… tevha nahi aathavla ki… navra-bayko madhe secrets nastat?” He cocked a brow; his grip loosened as talking about his not-so-favorite ex-assistant brought back the suppressed annoyance. 

“Hi vel aahe junya goshti kadhaychi? Zala na tyala ek varsha! Aata kay janmabhar tyavarun taunts aikayla lagnaar aahe mala?” She banged her hands on the bag, letting her frustration out. “Aani jasa kahi tula mahit nahi mi te Atti saathi kela hota,” she muttered, glaring at him. 

“Tyani kahi badlat nahi. Tu goshta lapavli ki nahi? Thevla hota na ek secret? Mag mi pan thevnaar. Nahi dakhavnar mazi bag. Aani tu suddha… ajibaat prayatna karaycha nahi!” He warned, pulling the bag closer. “Jitki lamb tu tuzya pustakapasun rahtes… titkach lamb mazya bag pasun rahaycha nahitar parinaam waait hotil. Kalala?”

That was the final nail in the coffin for Apurva Vartak Kanitkar. Her husband, somehow, always managed to test her patience like nobody else. 

How dare he order her?
How dare he warn her?
How dare he… threaten her? 

“Parinaam waait hotil?” She took a step closer, folding her hands across her chest. “Chal saang bara… kay parinaam hotil?“

He lifted the bag from the table and rushed to a corner, just far enough from her, placed the bag on the ground and sat on it. “Te tula kalatil jevha tu ya bag la parat haat lavshil tevha!” 

“Ek minute,” she gritted her teeth, taking a step forward, “tu kay mala challenge kartoys ka, Khadoos?”

“Ajibaat nahi! Request kartoy! Please… ya bag chya lamb raha na… please, Appu…” 

Her eyes widened before they looked away to hide the mischief in them. “Appu and all haan, Khadoos? But sorry… it’s not gonna work,” she said, stroking her chin, “pan jar bahuli mhannar asashil tar maybe… maybe kahi hou shakta…” 

A wave of relief rushed through him as he stared at her with newfound hope. “Bas evdhach na? Aata mhanto-“

“Ek minute, Khadoos,” she cut him off before he could complete her order and protect his poor bag from her, “itka sopa watla ka tula? Fakt bahuli nahi… Radkya Teddy chi Samjutdaar Bahuli mhanaycha aahe tula!”

He had stood up to give his wife a hug who he thought was being generous but immediately sat back on the bag when he heard her. “Radka Teddy? Radka Teddy mi aani tu… Samjutdaar Bahuli?” He chuckled. “Sorry… itka khota… mi nahi bolu shakat! ” 

He didn’t say that. He DIDN’T say that. Her nostrils flared as her husband dared to start the argument that left her burning with anger.

Don’t give in to his manipulation, Appu. Don’t give in to his manipulation. He is just trying to make you so mad that you’ll walk out and he’ll get a chance and the time to hide this bag. Shaant… shaant raha. Spare him for the time being. She told herself. Just for the time being though. She added in her mind, grinning. 

“5 varsha zaalit aaplyala sobat, Khadoos,” she said, leaning in closer after she walked up to him, “ya tactics aata kaam nahi karnar mazyavar.” 

Damn. Thought it would work. He sighed. 

“Also… truth is bitter, Khadoos. It’s okay if you can’t accept it but it doesn’t change the fact that…” she paused, enjoying the sheer irritation on his face, “the fact that…. Tedddy radka aahe aani Bahuli samajutdaar. Kalala, Mr. Crybaby Kanitkar?” She pressed his nose before patting his cheek. 

“Radka? Crybaby? Mi?” He banged his fist on the bag, rising to his feet. 

“Nahitar kon mi?” she asked, turning around. “Magchya ardhya tasapasun eka bag saathi kon radtay? #RadkaTeddy!” She hid her wicked grin by slapping her palm on her mouth as she stared at the reflection of his annoyed self in the mirror. 

Chidlelya navryala ajun chidavnyasarkha param sukh nahi! 

Oh, how hard it was not to laugh! 

“Te tujhe hashtags vagere mala nako aikavu!” He grabbed her arm, turning her back toward himself. “And, Mrs. Kanitkar… giving such names to your sweet husband can be dangerous for you. Do I have to remind you in what ways?”

“Absolutely not!” She slapped his hand away that was circling around her waist. “In fact, you know what, Mr. Kanitkar… keeping secrets from your darling wife can be dangerous for you. Do I have to remind you in what ways?” she asked, pointing at the couch outside their room.

“Absolutely not!” His joined palms pleaded, recalling the horror of sleeping on the couch for straight one week in the last month after an intense fight. 

“Pan aik na…” He held her hands, pulling her closer. “Please… bag cha vishay sodun de na… hmm?” 

“Pan ka sodu mi, Khadoos? Ka sodu mi?” Shaking her head, she pulled her hands out of his hold and circled them around his neck. “You know me. I am a curious cat. Now that I know that there is something in this bag that you don’t want me to see… I cannot not see it. Aata mala baghaylach lagnaar, Khadoos nahitar mala jevan nahi janar. So… sorry but,” she murmured, pushing him on the bed after involving him enough in her conversation, taking advantage of his casual self that she knew wasn’t expecting an attack and bent in front of the bag. 

“APURVA, NO!” he yelled, hating how he still hadn’t learned to predict his wife’s moves and jumped to his feet. 

She had almost opened the bag when he got his hands on it but when he tried to snatch it from her, the bag fell open and everything that was inside was on the floor. 

The sight made her press her fingers against her lips that had parted in shock. “Khadoos,” her shaky voice uttered his name as she sat in disbelief, staring at the hundreds of her photographs that lay on the floor. The photographs she didn’t know existed. 

She crawled closer to take a proper view of them. She recalled those moments but had no idea who captured them, when and how. 

She picked up a couple of photographs. 

The first one made her go back to Varun’s second birthday when she had tried to bake a cake for him but her attempt failed which had made her inconsolably sob on the kitchen counter. 

But wasn’t she alone in the kitchen that day when the mess happened? She remembered getting a grip on herself before she walked outside.  

Her stunned gaze found her husband who had sat, visibly defeated by then. He was quick to look away when he felt her gaze on him, confirming her suspicion.  

She kept that photograph aside and checked the next one out. It was with Mai and Suva-Aai. She couldn’t remember what exactly the joke was that had made the trio burst out laughing but the huge smiles on their faces in the picture confirmed that they had wholeheartedly laughed that day. 

Another photograph had her sleeping in her husband’s shirt with the spare pair of his glasses in her hands. 

That night was still fresh in her memory. It was almost two years ago on their second proposal anniversary when she had been waiting for him but an unexpected meeting at the institute hadn’t let him return early. She had fallen asleep with his shirt and glasses, missing him more than she could verbally express. 

Shutting her eyes for a brief moment, she placed the photos down. After she stared at the hundreds of other scattered photographs on the floor for several long moments, she finally looked at him. 

Her silent demand for the answers to the questions in her eyes was read by her husband who let out a deep sigh before stretching out his hands in front of her. 

Wordlessly giving her hands in his, she let him pull her near himself. Snaking his hands around her waist, he held her closer, making her sit beside him. “Tu vicharat hotis na asa kay khajina aahe yaat tar… ho… khajinach aahe. Maza khajina. Ya 5 varshat mi tujhe kadhlele photos.” 

“Pan tu kadhi kadhle he sagle? Aani mala kasa kahich mahiti nahi?” she asked, tilting her head to look at him. 

“Karan tu aahe tya kshanat ramnari aahes. You’re someone who lives in the moment, Apurva. Mag to kshan changla aso ki waait… tu to kshan jagtes aani to kshan jagtana kon tuzyakade baghtay ka… koni tula judge kartay ka… tuzyavar hastay ka… yakade tuza kadhihi laksh nasta. Tula farak hi padat nahi,” he smiled, placing his palm on her cheek, “aani tula mahiti aahe… tuzyabaddal chi saglyaat aawadti goshta aahe hi mazi!” 

“That’s only partially true though,” she whispered, snuggling closer, “tu mazyakade baghtos ki nahì yakade laksha asta maza… farak padto mala!” 

“Ho?” 

Her childlike nod to his question made him laugh. “Also… yaat maza kahich dosh nahiye. The culprit is my camera. It is obsessed with you. Apurva Vartak Kanitkar is Shashank Kanitkar’s camera’s obsession. Aani to itka obsessed aahe ki tyala tu havi aste aani to… gheto tula shodhun! Mi kay karu?”

She punched his arm, laughing along with him. “But I still have a question, Khadoos!”

“Go ahead!”

“Mazech photos aahet na he? Mag tu malach dakhwat navtas? Yala kay artha aahe?”

“Bilkul artha aahe! Photos tujhe asle tari khajina aamcha aahe!”

“Aamcha?”

“Ho. Aamcha. Maza aani aaplya honarya mulancha!”

Her shy eyes shut as she buried her face in his chest, wondering how she got so lucky to have someone for whom she was so precious. Wrapping his hands around her back, he could only wonder how bland his life would have been had the universe not sent her into his life.

This is a random piece of fiction. Absolute imagination. Kind of a random mini tale based on the picture.

Dedicated to – Arshia – Kyun? – Koi reason thodi chaahiye! Dost hai meri! Zindagi roz kadwe karele khilaaye to bhi khud ki mithaas na khone wali!. <3