His Antique Piece – Thipkyanchi Rangoli

“Khadoos, chal na, please.”

“Ajibaat nahi aani tula kiti vela sangitla aahe… ashya faltu goshti madhe mala ghyaycha nahi mhanun?”

“Faltu? FALTU? Museum baghayla jana faltu watata tula? Arey scientist aahes na tu?”

“Mulat ya don goshtincha kahi ek sambandha nahiye aani tu ekda vichar karun bagh… tuzya sarkhi bayko astana mala kharach museum baghayla jaychi garaj aahe ka?”

“Ek-ek minute,” she said as his comment sank in, making her keep her hands on her waist as she glared at him, “tula nakki mhanaycha kay aahe? Mi antique piece aahe?”

“Nahi aahe?”

“KHADOOS… ugh. How mean! I so don’t like you! I so don’t like you.” She stomped her foot before throwing a punch right in his stomach. “Maza navrach mala antique piece mhanto tar bakiche loka tar kay ch mhantil…” she muttered under her breath. 

“Antique piece, ajun kay?” 

“KHADOOOS!” 

“Ae shhh, halu.” He tried to get her to lower her pitch but quit his attempt within seconds. “Arey jau de. Ka ugach energy waste kartoy mi mazi. 3 varshat tar mazya institute madhe suddha saglyanna savay zaliye. Bagh mhanunach koni baher nahi aalay ajun.” 

“Te sagla mala aata nahi aikaycha aahe, Khadoos. Tu yetoys ki nahi? Nikhil Dada, Amey Dada, Kukki… saglyanni sutti kadhliye. Tu ka nahi kadhu shakat? Ha maza plan hota aani mazach navra nasel tar kasa watel?” 

“Tuzya navryala kama astat. Mahiti aahe na tula?”

“Te mala mahitich aahe. Mala he sang mazya navryakade mazyasathi vel aahe… ki nahi?”

“Apurva,” he murmured, vigorously rubbing his forehead, “mi asa achanak nahi nighu shakat…”

She clenched her fist. “Fine. Nako nighus. Mich nighte ithun. Khadoos Liar Kanitkar. Tya divshi mhanat hota – every second of my life belongs to you. Khotarda kuthla. Khadoos kuthla. Khota… sagla khota!”

He grabbed her wrist when his angry wife turned to leave. “Sagla khara. My everything belongs to you, Mrs. Kanitkar. Tu ghari ja. Mi ardhya tasaat kaam sampavun yeto.”

“Nako. Parat mhanshil mazi bayko maza kaam hi samjun ghet nahi.”

“Mazi bayko jevdha mala samjun ghete tevdha tar mi swatala hi nahi samjun gheu shakat. 

Kay mahiti mala tu bhetli kashi,
Rakhrakhtya unhaatli moulyawan sawli jashi!”

“Nasheeb kadhlays pan tu, Shashank. Appu ne hatta karun akkha ghar dokyavar ghetla, aamhala phone karun parat bolavla aani ha plan banavla… Kay tar mhanat hoti… haan, Khadoos la change chi garaj aahe.” Amey patted Shasank’s shoulder when everyone was busy exploring the museum and they were left behind. 

Shashank’s feet came to a sudden halt, grasping Amey’s words. So she knew. His eyes searched for her in the crowd and he caught her laughing with Manasi while showing her around. 

His Bayko was just… his Bayko. 

Who would believe that she was the same girl who he could never see understanding the seriousness of things? 

It was after he married her and she stepped into his life as his wife that he began to understand that perhaps, life was never meant to be taken as seriously as he took it. 

“KHADOOS!”

His chain of thoughts was broken by the loud call for his name. An awkward smile plastered on his face as he faced strange glances from people around.

He almost rushed to her and pulled her aside by her elbow. “Ithehi Shashank navti mhanu shakat? Kase baghtaat aahe sagle…”

Playfully slapping his cheek, she freed herself from his grip. “Shashank tu itaransathi karan tu tyanchyashi Shashank sarkha wagtos. Chandrasarkha. Soft Shashank Kanitkar. Pan mazyashi… mazyashi tu Khadoos sarkha wagtos tar tech mhannar na mi?” She placed her elbow on his shoulder, raising a brow. “Kay… Khadoos Shashank Kanitkar?”

“Ae shh,” he urged, slapping his forehead, “tu kuthehi kay suru hotes?” 

She moved her finger to convey her disagreement, shaking her head. “Ajibaat nahi. Tu mala suru vhayla bhaag padtos. Yaat maza kahich dosh nahiye.”

He joined his palms in front of her. “Manya. Manya. Sagla maza dosh aahe. Mi doshi aahe. Mich doshi asto. Khush?”

“Arey kay challay tumcha? Aapan aahot kuthe. Tumhi kartay kay? Haan, Shashank?” Kukki reprimanded when he caught a group of people staring at them instead of the artifacts. 

“Tu mala kay vichartoy? Tuzya ladkya Appu la vichar…” Shashank stole a few glances at the people around from the corner of his eye. “Itkya saglya lokansamor KHADOOS ashi haak martey ti mala. Bagh kase baghtat aahe sagle.”

Kukki placed his hand on Shashank’s shoulder. “Premane mhante ri ti tula. Kay evdha chidtos? Amhi tar tula premane kay kay mhanto yachi tu kalpana hi nahi karu shakat. Kalach aamhi tuza navin naav-” 

The Kukki Gang slapped their foreheads, hearing Kukki blurt out their secrets as he got carried away. 

Apurva pulled him by his arm, muttering, “Arey ka sangtoys tyala? Aata ka sangtoys tyala? Ajun chidel na to…”

“Wah Wah.” Shashank clapped. “Tumhi -”

“Shashank, aik na… tu samajtoys tasa nahi aahe,” Amey said. 

“Ho, Bhaauji. Far far tar aamhi tumhala Tikhat Gulabjamun mhanto,” Manasi innocently revealed before Amey could hold her back. 

“Kay? Vahini, Gulabjamun tikhat asto ka?” Shashank felt his head spinning. 

Oh, how foolish was he to believe that the Kukki Gang had stopped seeking fun at his plight when clearly, he was still their favorite target to roast! 

“Wahi to, Saalesahab. Tikhat Gulabjamun madhla tikhatpana exclusively aamchya saathi reserved asto aani godva… tumchya bayko saathi. Kay, Appu? Barobar boltoy na mi?” Nikhil nudged Apurva who blushed, lowering her gaze. “Aap to shaadi ke baad ekdum hi badal gaye, Saalesahab. Humne kaafi romantic kisse sune hai aapke!”

It took Shashank a good thirty seconds to understand what Nikhil was saying but when it sank in, sheer disbelief held him frozen as he looked at his wife. “Apurva? He kay boltat aahe Nikhilrao?”

No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way on the earth he was going to accept that his wife had exposed their romantic moments to her so-called Kukki Gang.

But his wife was still naive and her Kukki Gang, still smart. Could they really make her reveal it all? 

Someone kill him already!

Apurva shook her head ever so innocently. “Mi kahich nahi sangitlay konala, Khadoos. Kharach. Tu je mazyasathi chocolates ch heart banavla hota te tar ajibaat nahi. Aani aapan beech var to Kuch Kuch Hota Hai cha moment recreate kela hota te tar bilkul ch nahi.”

His wife was ridiculous. He wondered why he was even alive as her Kukki Gang’s chuckles and giggles fell into his ears. 

He couldn’t believe that she actually told them everything.  Ugh. He should have known it. Her Kukki Gang was too smart for his liking.

He was sure that they must have tricked her into exposing their romantic secrets. 

Dammit. He could only hope that she stopped at their romantic dates and didn’t touch their bedroom tales in front of them.

He could only hope.

“Ae bas kara re!” Kukki cleared his throat, sensing Shashank’s rising temper. “Nikhil… Manasi, shh.”

“Mala kay watatay, aapan na nighayla hava aata ithun. Sagle ajunahi aaplyakadech baghat aahe. Mala… kasatari hotay,” Sumi said, clinging to Nikhil who exchanged looks with Amey and Kukki as he cribbed and they comforted him in their usual code language of silence.

“Tari mi mhanat hoto ila gheu naka aaplyat mhanun,” Amey muttered.

Before any of them could utter another word, Shashank stormed out, making Apurva smack her forehead before running after her irked-up husband.

“Tula kasa kay bara jamta he, Shishta?” 

She was applying her night cream when he appeared out of nowhere and snaked his hands around her waist. 

Clueless, she raised her hand, staring at him through the mirror. “Kay jamta mala, Khadoos? Aani tu tar chidla hotas na? Evdhya premane kasa kay boltoys?” 

Keeping his chin on her shoulder, he began to express his disappointment. “Chidlo hoto nahi chidlo aahe. Tu kasa kay sangu shakte ashya aaplyatlya… aaplyatlya navra-bayko chya goshti asa baherchyanna?”

“Arey te kuthe baherche aahe. Aaplech aahe na…”

“Navra-Bayko chya personal, private moments madhe saglech baherche astaat. Saglech.” He wondered why he had to explain something as basic as that to her. “Pan maza raag mi sadhya raagpetit band karun thevla aahe mhanun sadhya jo tuzyashi boltoy to chidlela Shashank nahi tar bharavlela Khadoos aahe.” 

“Konta lela?” 

“Lela nahi ga…” His heart cried as she killed yet another moment that he was hoping to make romantic. He hit his head on her shoulder. “Ashi kashi aahe tu, Apurva?”

“Aata mala ekhada shabda nahi samajla tar tu asa marnar aahes mala? Thamb Suva-Aai la jaun sangte ki ticha Shashudya martoy mala.” She freed herself of his hold and headed toward the door. 

Before she could take another step forward, she was pulled back by her husband who seemed to have developed a strange obsession with holding her by her waist lately.

“Shahanya Bayko ne Navryachi ashi takraar karaychi naste, Shishta,” he whispered.

“Ho ka? Mag kay karaycha asta Shahanya Bayko ne, Khadoos?” 

“Bayko shahani aahe. Mala kahi sangaychi garaj aahe?” He pecked her cheek only to earn an elbow punch in his stomach. “Ow. Shahani Bayko Violent Bayko ka bantey?” 

“Karan Bayko la violent vhayla aawadta aani tuch nahi ka mhanala hotas ki tula mazi punching bag vhayyla aawdel?”

“Mi tar he hi mhanalo hoto ki chal aapan aata mul plan karuya. Te nahi ghetla tu seriously?”

She coughed. “Te tu konta lela mhanat hotas?”

“Vishay badalnyat tar tarbez aaho aapan, nahi?”

“Kon bez?”

“APURVA!” He sighed, pulling himself away. “Tula na mi Marathi shikavu shakat na… romance.”

“Oh hello… Mr. Khadoos Shashank Kanitkar,” she bawled, placing her hands on her waist, “aaplyat jevdha-kevdha romance aahe na… to sagla mazyamule aahe, kalala?”

“Tuzyamule?” He chuckled. “Chhan vinod hota.” 

“Khadoos, aata tu mala irritate kartoy. Aani ajunahi tu mala sangitlela nahiye to kon lela aahe tar?”

He shut his eyes for yet another time before taking her hand in his. “Bharavlela mhanje… overwhelmed.”

“Oh overwhelmed,” she said, letting it sink in. “Ek minute. Tu overwhelmed aahe? Ka?”

“Tuzyamule.”

She pointed her finger at herself, silently confirming if he was indeed referring to her. He nodded.

“Pan mi kay kelay?” she asked, not getting what he was trying to say.

“Tula kay watla, mala kalnar nahi aaj achanak ha museum cha plan kasa banla te? Kharach… garaj hoti mala ya break chi. Aaj tar saangunach tak… kasa bara jamta tula?”

“Tasach jasa tula jamta?” she said, placing her hand on his. “Tu nahi aanat mazyasathi chocolates jevha maza mood kharab asto? Farak fakt evdha aahe ki mi eka chocolate mule pan khush hote aani tu… antique goshtinmule!” She winked. 

“Antique goshtinmule nahi, Mrs. Kanitkar,” he murmured, guiding her hands to encircle his neck, “mazya antique piece mule!”

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