Chapter 3
[NOCOPY]
Homecoming
Part A: Swara's Yearning
As a child, Swara had loved their family outings to the Alipore Zoological Gardens in Kolkata. Her Dida and Ma would take her there on a Sunday, typically once in every 3 or 4 months. They would make an entire day of the trip, being among the first to enter the zoo when it opened at 9 am, and usually staying on right till the closing time of 5 pm. The numerous animal enclosures, as well as the verdant gardens within the Zoo, easily afforded them an enthralling, fun filled day.
Different visitors to the Alipore Zoo had their own favorite animals they loved to see, lingering for several minutes, even upto half an hour, in front of the respective enclosures. Many loved the mob of Red Kangaroos, a very rare sight indeed, in any Indian zoo. Others were fascinated by Adwaita, the Aldabra Giant Tortoise, almost 250 years old already, when the curious, bright eyed 6 year old Swara, first laid eyes on him.
Yet others (Swara's Dida and Ma were amongst them), were enthralled by the White Tigers on display, or the very rare Tigons---Rudhrani and Ranjini, born of a Bengal Tiger father, and a Lioness mother.
But if one were to ask Swara herself, what her favorite animals were---she would, without a moment's hesitation, have picked the Sarus Cranes. These tallest of the flying birds were elegant and stately, their slate grey plumage offering a beautiful contrast to their vibrant, crimson colored heads and upper necks. But it was not just their undeniable beauty which drew Swara's attention.
Even as an innocent child, Swara grew to love, almost venerate these birds, because of their repute as symbols of marital fidelity. They were known to form pair bonds for life, with the death of one bird resulting in its grief stricken mate trumpeting and pining for weeks thereafter---often, reputedly, even starving to death itself.
And who should have appreciated marital adoration, fidelity and constancy more than the young Swara; who never had what most of us take for granted? The warmth of seeing one's parents deeply in love with each other, loyal and faithful companions to each other through life... And unfortunately, there had always been people to point jeering fingers at her mother and herself. One of the pitfalls of childhood, is that one doesn't have to understand something in order to feel it. By the time the mind is able to comprehend what has happened, the wounds of the heart are already too deep. *
Swara had grown into a fine young lady nevertheless, kind, compassionate and with an intense, selfless desire, to see others happy. But even after Shekhar came back into her mother's and her lives, a subdued, deep seated insecurity had remained. One would never have suspected this, seeing her sunny, joyous nature, but that did not mean that the vestige of that insecurity wasn't there, hidden behind the facade.
But all that changed when she fell deeply, irrevocably in love with Sanskaar; with his potent and intense adoration for her, with his unconditional and selfless way of standing by her every decision. After an arduous, often painful journey, they had come home to each other at last. Swara had felt simultaneously more vibrantly alive than she ever had, and more serenely tranquil than she ever had too, wrapped in the gloriously warm cocoon of her husband's love for her.
She had known, as had Sanskaar, that their mutual adoration ran so deep, they could never imagine a life without each other. It was the nature of the passionately intertwined twin souls that they were---neither could survive, or even want to, without the other.
Which was why, during those ghastly days following Sanskaar's fall from the cliff, Swara had just known, with every fiber of her being, that Sanskaar was still alive. The police had deployed expert divers to search the Hooghly in the environs of Kolkata and Howrah; had used drag nets to dredge the depths. They had sent a force of constables to hamlets and shanties on the outskirts of the metropolis, to check if any man had been pulled out of the river. But every effort had drawn a blank. Sanskaar had not been found, and the police had gently conveyed to the Maheshwari and Gadodia families, that it would be rational to conclude that Sanskaar had lost his life; his body probably dashed away by the floods and therefore unlikely to be found.
This grim news had been met with heart breaking sorrow. Sujata had had to be administered a sedative, to somehow enable her to bear the paroxysm of grief into which she descended. Annapurna and Uttara had held themselves together a tad better, but only just. Shomi and Ragini were beside themselves in concern for Swara.
And the menfolk were distraught, too---Shekar, well meaning but a tad ineffectual as he usually was, wept that he did not know how to console his daughter. Ram Prasad suffered a grief so intense, he had been in hardly any position to console his often hysterical wife. At this crushing moment of loss, his mind kept replaying the litany of guilt---you could not support your son the way you should have, when he needed you the most those years ago. And just when he came back, when finally, it looked like he would get the happiness and contentment he so truly deserved, the cruel hands of fate have snatched him away again. Long were Ram's days, and sleepless were his nights, as he railed in silent, tearful rage to the Gods he loved so much. How could they allow this to happen?
Lakshya suffered intense pangs of grief; apart from a strong feeling of survivor's guilt. His Bhai and he had barely had time to repair their fractured relationship; barely had time to return to the "Bhai" and "Lucky" they had always been through their childhood and teen years; instead of the rather colder "Sanskaar" and "Lakshya" they had addressed each other as recently. And now, he would never have his hero, his idol to look up to; his best friend, who could join him in playing the merriest of pranks, while also sternly admonishing him to be more responsible when it mattered.
Durga Prasad, too, was in the grips of an intense, crushing sorrow. It may have been said by some that he had "only" lost a nephew, not one of his own two sons. But then, he had always considered Sanskaar as good as his own son. He was the son after his own heart, and Durga Prasad had been very glad to have him back in the family fold, after their estrangement of years past.
But as he now grappled with the aftermaths of this cataclysm, Durga Prasad resolved that both the families had to find some way of holding themselves together. To ensure that the person hardest hit by this tragedy, could somehow manage to accept this loss, to find a way to survive and recover. But his assumptions about Swara's reactions, in this case at least, had been thoroughly misplaced.
Swara was obviously distraught and tearful at having Sanskaar wrenched from her. She suffered recurrent nightmares of those last moments at the cliff---of Sanskaar's furious attack on Rajat, raining blows on that villain even as he pulled Swara to safety. Both of them had dropped the pistols they had held in their scuffle; but it was Rajat, grievously wounded though still dangerously vindictive, who retrieved his gun first. He had then proceeded to hold Sanskaar at gun point, cackling his insanely sadistic laugh at Swara, that her husband may well have rescued her from being his hostage; but no matter, he held Sanskaar hostage now!
Rajat had never expected Swara to scrabble desperately around and find the pistol, which had slipped from Sanskaar's grasp in the fracas. And even as Sanskaar looked calmly at his wife, pouring all his trust and absolute faith in her in that gaze; she had crouched low, steadying her trembling hands with sheer force of will, her eyes blazing with her indomitable determination to rescue her very purpose of existing. She had fired just the one shot at Rajat---but it had been enough. He had staggered back, mortally wounded---but had then decided, in the throes of death, to pull Sanskaar along with him into the vortex.
The memory of what happened thereafter was seared in Swara's mind---playing in an endless loop. Of her desperate attempts to hold on to Sanskaar, even as he determinedly clutched at a branch at the very edge of the cliff rim. Of Sanskaar gazing at her, ineffable regret and yearning in his eyes, immense sorrow at the thought that he would now be compelled to leave her side. Her last desperate attempts to hold on to his strong, calloused palms with her own dainty ones, and watching in horror, as he plummeted to the depths of the raging torrent below.
Sanskaar's deep, resounding call: I LOVE YOU SWARA...echoed in her ears, even as she clutched his engagement ring which had come off from his finger into her palm, during those last moments. But one thing Swara had known, from the very marrow of her bones, distraught as she was-----her husband, her love, her soulmate, her very reason for drawing breath---- was very much alive.
The Police Commissioner had been very sympathetic, avuncular even, in his empathy towards Swara. He had attempted to explain, that he could understand her shock and sorrow, but there really was no hope anymore, not when all the evidence was against the theory of Sanskaar having been able to survive. Swara had merely glanced at him, her eyes bright with scorn. In a terrifyingly calm voice, she had told him that she had all the proof that was needed---the police need only to confirm the fact that she was not dead yet. As long as her heart still thrummed and she still drew breath, Swara averred with supreme confidence, it meant that Sanskaar was still alive. And nothing---and no one---could convince her otherwise.
The rest of the family oscillated between grief and despair on the one hand, and tenuous hope on the other, the embers of which were fired by the blaze of Swara's undying faith. But as the days grew into weeks, none of the others were ever very sure---each and every one of them had lost hope at some time or the other, and entertained the thought that Sanskaar was probably dead, after all. All, except for Swara...
Part B: You are the Ocean and I the wave...**
Her unshakable, indomitable faith in her bond with her husband had won through, after all. Sanskaar had returned, back home to her. Swara stood in their room, putting things away and generally clearing up for the night; almost incandescent with sheer joy. Yes, she knew she had to tread a bit carefully around Sanskaar, had to be a little equivocal about the events of the past year. The doctor who had accompanied Sanskaar had been very clear on that aspect---Sanskaar had a gaping hole in his memories, dating to about a year and a quarter, prior to the present date. But his family were not to overwhelm him with details, burden him with too much information.
The doctor had been rather protective of this remarkable patient of his, who had won his affection and admiration. Despite the doctor's practiced air of professional reserve, built over his years of caregiving, he had not been able to help placing Sanskaar on a level different from his other patients. He cautioned the Maheshwaris, with a warm concern, that they should allow Sanskaar to recollect his memories of the intervening period in his own time. Any attempt to force these along, to hasten the process of his recovery, could mean that the elusive memories retreated further and further into his psyche.
Swara had been shaken, it must be admitted, to realize that Sanskaar did not really remember her, did not recall the sublime beauty of the love they had shared. But she had not allowed this thought to disturb her utter and complete bliss at his return. She was conscious, as always, of his scrutiny from under the fringe of his luxuriant lashes---it was a habit he had picked up long ago, during the days of their "fake marriage". It had filled her with warmth and contentment then, almost despite herself. And it had a similar effect now.
She glanced up at him, to see Sanskaar hastily looking away from her. Swara was both a tad amused, and rather disappointed. Be patient, Swara...she remonstrated with herself. Sanskaar just realized today that he is married to you! Give him some time to remember, to get comfortable with you again...She blushed prettily, as she remembered how she had clung tightly to him downstairs when he had arrived, sobbing in a near delirious ecstasy of relief, chanting her vows of irrevocable love to him, almost as if they were a catechism.
She could not have realized it yet, but Sanskaar's mind was in a perfect turmoil. He had been informed that he was married to Swara---they had had a love marriage it seemed, and his family were delighted and voluble in their assurance, that their marriage had been very happy indeed. Sanskaar snorted silently to himself. He now knew better than to trust his family---a pit of vipers, that was what they were.
A wonderful love marriage this looked like, indeed, with his wife having taken a shot at him, thought Sanskaar sarcastically. And unbidden, slid a silent, sly thought into his formidable mind. Whatever might have happened then, he certainly did not have a bullet wound, did he?
Sanskaar shook his head impatiently, almost in an attempt to clear it of inconvenient thoughts, which seemed to be seeping into it at every opportunity. Most of them concerning Swara. His wife.
Sanskaar was a very perceptive man, clinical and logical in his thought processes. But mercurially brilliant as he was, even he would have been hard put to explain exactly what were the emotions coursing through him at present; as he cast covert glances at a blushing Swara, who was going about tidying his----No, their room.
At one level, there was a smug sense of satisfaction, that perhaps, his plan of a little over a year ago, seemed to have worked after all. He had apparently separated Lucky from the woman he supposedly loved, and claimed her for himself. Again, almost despite himself, Sanskaar felt a powerful rush of possessive, masculine territoriality at that thought---the fact that Swara was his, at least by the vows they had apparently taken together. This emotion coursed through him, warm and overpowering, before he tamped it down with a half uttered growl of frustration.
Even as Swara glanced concernedly at him, wondering if she had heard him say something, Sanskaar, again unbidden, felt a new emotion. One that he had, to his recollection, not felt in over 5 years. He felt a considerable measure of self loathing and disgust, for what he had apparently done. Perhaps, after all, Swara had enough reason to shoot at him---had he pushed her to that, perhaps by treating her as collateral damage, a trophy of war, almost? Marrying her, perhaps, in order to make her unavailable, unattainable to Lucky?
He wanted to march over to where she stood, grasp her tightly by her shoulders and demand that she tell him the truth. But that would not work now, would it? He had cunningly insinuated to the good doctor what his state of memory was, and stoked the doctor's concern on what to tell his family. He wanted to have the time and opportunity to watch their reactions like a hawk. Durga Prasad's and Lucky's, in particular. He knew that a very good weapon against his foes, was their own complacence. And when the time was ripe, he would plunge down on them like a peregrine falcon swooping on a flock of pigeons. Revenge was a dish best served cold, after all...
But to his utter frustration, Sanskaar found that all his clinical, ruthless planning seemed to falter at his ever present thoughts of Swara. Earlier that day, When she had come dashing down the stairs and flung herself into his arms, she had taken his breath away with that expression on her face. As if her whole world revolved around him, as if he meant the entire universe to her. Sanskaar wanted so dearly, to tear that memory out of his mind----that thought of her enchanting face, bewitching with its sublime, incandescent burst of love. But try as he might, he found that he could not.
His heart, that most inconvenient and traitorous of organs, kept expanding with a powerful burst of joy, each time he thought of that look. And, despite his best attempts at self control, he seemed unable to stop himself from casting lingering glances at her. Don't be a damned fool, Sanskaar!! He cursed himself. She is exactly the same now, as she was a couple of minutes before. With the only difference, that she was standing by the wardrobe earlier, whereas she is clearing something from the couch now. What does it matter?? Why are you looking at her??
But alas, his eyes, like his heart, seemed to have acquired a mind of their own. They continued to gaze, and to their heart's content, at that. And then, suddenly, at the sight of Swara near the couch, a ghost of a memory, a mere fragment, really, slid into Sanskaar's still healing psyche. Of him stretching his lithe, athletic frame on that rather uncomfortable couch, his long legs dangling over one end. He really would have paid someone very good money now, if only they had been able to prevent that bewildering sense of betrayal and hurt which flashed through him. So this so called love marriage did not seem to involve love from her side after all----she had apparently not wanted to share a bed with him, had she??
He muttered yet another quiet growl of frustration, brushing his hands through his luxuriant mane, grabbing fistfuls of his own hair and giving them quick, sharp tugs. Be on your guard Sanskaar! He swore to himself. You are the hunter. Do not become the hunted!
He broke into impersonal speech, in a valiant attempt to keep his thoughts in check. "So which side of the bed did I used to sleep on?" he asked, his voice sounding a bit tinny even to his own ears; before biting his own tongue in his rage at himself. Are you hoping she will explain why you took the couch, you fool? Swara, however, was smiling guilelessly at him, innocently unaware of the maelstrom of doubts swirling through Sanskaar's mind. "I used to sleep on the right side---You said I was always right!" she said with a merry, tinkling laugh, which made the corners of Sanskaar's mouth twitch upwards involuntarily, before he pulled his lips downwards again with considerable effort. "You---well, you used to start off sleeping on the left side, but you more or less wound up on my side by morning", she continued, and then her cheeks flooded with color, at the implications of what she'd just told her still-amnesiac husband.
"Where are my night clothes?" Sanskaar asked, in a rush, and rather fiercely. He had caught himself thinking yearningly, how Swara looked just like a lovely magnolia blossom, with its outer petals of creamy, ivory-like iridescence, contrasting with its inner petals of a soft, pink hue. His wife's almost translucently soft cheeks, with the delicate pink blush underneath, were so beautiful, he thought----before jolting himself out of his reverie with renewed fury at himself.
Swara had already walked over to the wardrobe, opened it, and turned to look at Sanskaar smilingly. His breath stilled slightly as he saw the wardrobe still full of all the clothes he had apparently left behind.
He did not remember anything of the days of their marriage, but he did know his systematic, orderly nature very well. There was no way he would have kept his clothes like this---not in the least bit carefully ordered, not his clothes on one side and hers on the other. But rather, all mingled together, shirts, blazers, sarees, salwars, T Shirts, trousers, pajamas and suits, all mixed up in no particular order or arrangement. Sanskaar turned an incredulous look at Swara, quirking one furry brow enquiringly.
She flushed a little. "When you were gone...I missed you so terribly, you know? I mean...you probably don't know, considering that you don't remember much, if anything, of our marriage. But I pined for you, Sanskaar. I knew you would come back to me, I always knew you were alive, that you wouldn't leave me like this. But I missed having you by my side. Somehow, having your clothes all mixed up with mine---it made me feel closer to you, as if you were back with me, in a way. Does that make sense?"
Sanskaar shook his head dumbly, the breath knocked clean out of his lungs. If one had asked him, if he had nodded his head in the affirmative or in negation, he would not have been able to answer. He himself, had no idea what he thought or felt at that moment.
But before he could react, Sanskaar saw Swara leaning forward to open a drawer in the wardrobe, pulling out a black beaded necklace which looked very much like a mangalsutra. Sanskaar's glance flashed quickly to Swara's neck, and he saw that she was wearing one all right---with a delicate, understated but extremely stylish diamond pendant in white gold, flanked by two rows of black beads on the sides, which ended half way to a delicate gold chain again. Very aesthetic, he thought to himself, with quiet pride, again without his conscious volition. Something which I would surely choose...
In what was becoming a pattern of behavior in less than half a day, he broke his own inconvenient thoughts with hasty speech. "You had two mangalsutras?" he queried, again with a curious quirk of his eyebrow. "Yes", smiled Swara. "Its a very long story, and I'll tell you more another day---now is not the best time, considering what the doctor said about not overburdening you with details. But I needed to give this back to you..."
And gently unclasping the mangalsutra, which Sanskaar now observed, seemed to have been broken and then very carefully mended, Swara revealed a ring which had been held safely in its confines. Sanskaar looked into her eyes questioningly, rather at sea at what was going on.
"Its yours", she said, her voice choking up with the intensity of her emotion, a few tears springing involuntarily to her eyes. Sanskaar felt truly wretched, her recollected anguish feeling as if somebody had stabbed him right through his heart, but also feeling uneasy and frustrated as to why he felt this way. "I don't want to go into more details now...but the day you...fell; our engagement ring which you wore, came off in my hand. Now that you are back, you need to wear it again", Swara said softly. Not able to explain more, given the doctor's cautionary expostulation.
Sanskaar reached his hand out, almost in a trance, expecting that Swara would place the ring in his outstretched palm. But she misunderstood his gesture---fortunately, perhaps? She reached down to his hand, stretching his ring finger out, and slipped the ring over his knuckle and back to where it belonged.
Sanskaar breathed in shallow breaths, betraying the nerves that his non committal expression managed to mask so very well. He wouldn't know for some time yet, how often in these past terrible weeks, his wife had clutched that ring tight, and allowed herself to dream that they had never been separated.
Sanskaar looked down at the ring, and then at the woman that had placed it on his finger; and who was looking at him with such enormous adoration in her sparkling eyes. His heart felt curiously light again, even as it expanded to what seemed like ten times its usual size. He felt a rush of warmth course through him, even as his hand tingled where she'd touched him. This was going to be a tortuous, sleepless night, thought Sanskaar, dejected, to himself. If only he could think logically through what he felt...He would call Nakul first thing tomorrow, he decided. And through him, the Bakshi brothers as well. Time to put together the pieces, of what had transpired in his life in the last 15 months or so...
Part 3: Dubito Ergo Cogito, Cogito Ergo Sum ***
Ragini listened to Lakshya's excited, voluble chatter indulgently, as they got ready to go to bed. She could not help but get enthused at her husband's obvious elation at this wonderful turn of events, the fact that his Bhai had returned home, surviving against the odds.
Lakshya had matured considerably over the past months of their shared privation, Ragini reflected. She shuddered involuntarily, as she briefly recollected the terrible wounds they had inflicted on each other, literally tearing each other apart before they had realized they had found their love in each other. She pushed those thoughts firmly away, where they belonged. In their past. She had changed too, finally being able to comprehend the monster she had become, in her jealous, all consuming infatuation. That moment of clarity, of perspective, had stricken her with remorse. Her reconciliation with Lakshya had been a gradual, steady rapprochement; with neither of them trying to hurry the process, or indeed, taking it for granted that they would finally be able to forgive and accept each other. But it had all worked out in the end.
Sending another indulgent look her husband's way, Ragini reflected, once again, that though Lakshya was much more aware of his responsibilities now, the consequences of his actions; in many ways, he still retained quite a bit of the child within him. Though he had walked briefly on the dark side, and caused her, as well as himself, considerable pain in the process, there was a transparent simplicity about Lakshya---a laid back, charmingly happy-go-lucky nature. He would simply never be predisposed to doubt; to analyze or to question. And maybe, thought Ragini, that was in a way his greatest strength, as well as his greatest weakness.
But she, on the other hand, having tasted the bitter flavor of remorse for her own conduct, for having let her own dark side completely overpower all the good, all the light within her; was now predisposed to doubt any symptoms of recurring darkness in others. Even in those she held in considerable regard and affection.
Ragini felt a lot of admiration for Sanskaar. He was linked to her in relationships two fold---he was both her Jeejaji, and her Jethji. But perhaps deeper than both, and which caused her considerable guilt, was the bond of friendship they had shared long ago. They had allied for a nefarious purpose, it was true, repellent and manipulative. But Sanskaar had tried subsequently to push her away from the sordid plans; warning her that this conniving was doing her no good. And then, he had seen the light, not wanting to plot and scheme and hurt innocents anymore. But she had been well past reason by that time.
Sanskaar had honored that friendship, motivated and shallow though some may have considered it, to the very best of his ability. But she...Ragini shuddered again, the bitter taste of her regret, her unfinished, unfulfilled redemption, still acid on her tongue. She had betrayed his secret to his family, despite knowing that he had sincerely repented, and was no longer trying to cause them harm. And even worse was to follow, when she had repellently accused him of attempting to molest her.
It was times like these that Ragini wished The Time Machine had existed in reality, so she could go back into the past and wipe her slate clean, to start afresh. She would do many things differently...so very many things.
She was brought out of her reverie by Lakshya wrapping a strong arm around her, boyishly pouting and asking why his wife's thoughts were so far away from him; before demanding that she give him their customary Good night kiss.
Some considerable time later, her carefully ordered hair now in rampant disarray, and a beatific smile on her ravishingly beautiful face, Ragini got back to pondering her earlier train of thought. Lakshya contentedly flopped down next to her, an arm possessively round his wife.
It amazed Ragini, how none of the Maheshwaris seemed to have joined the dots from what the doctor said, or had noticed the rather odd way Sanskaar was behaving. That look of utter revulsion and loathing in his glowing eyes when Lakshya had embraced him-----Ragini still felt a chill go down her spine, as she recollected it.
She just might have concluded that she had imagined that look---if it had not been for the doctor's advice. He had stated quite clearly, that Sanskaar had little, if no memories at all, of the preceding 15 months or so. And yet, none of the family seemed to be the least bit worried, that the Sanskaar of 15 months ago, was hardly the Sanskaar he had become, after Swara had entered his life.
Ragini felt a rush of panic at the thought of Swara, bile rising in her throat at the thought of whether Sanskaar would do anything to harm her. But on cooler reflection, Ragini shook her head. No, Sanskaar would not be able to do that. Even all those months ago, when he was bitterly vindictive, ruthless in his planning on how to bring the Maheshwari empire to its knees, he had not been able to treat Swara as collateral damage for long. Her innocence and sheer goodness had won him over. Ragini bit her lip thoughtfully, immersed in pensive contemplation. No, she decided. Sanskaar would not harm Swara in any way now---at least, he just would not be able to. What could, however, break Swara's heart was if Sanskaar made her think he could not grow to love her in the future, did not care to recollect anything about her, or did not intend to give their marriage a real chance. Ragini resolved to keep a hawk's eye on Swara. Her sister, she thought with a wry smile, was very talented in keeping her feelings to herself. But she, Ragini, set great store by her own instincts and perceptive abilities; and at the risk of sounding arrogant, Ragini thought she outscored her sister in this department. She would do what it took to keep Swara safe, to protect her from heartbreak. That was the very least she could do----for both Swara, and Sanskaar.
Having thought of her sister, Ragini's worried mind now dwelt on the possible implications of an amnesiac Sanskaar's plans on Lakshya. She remembered very well, that 15 months ago, Sanskaar had wanted nothing more than to crush Lakshya's happiness, and chip away at the foundations of Maheshwari and Sons, till the firm collapsed into bankruptcy and disrepute. Would he attempt something similar again? The last time, he had arrayed his battle formations, through his firm---Karma & Co. But now that he himself had played a major part, in merging the firms into the powerhouse---Maheshwari, Karma and Sons; what could his plan be?
Ragini did not know, and for the moment, could not guess what her erstwhile friend and guru would now be upto. But she intended, with all the guile and wiles she possessed---- traits which she had honed watching Sanskaar's skills, no less----to do her very best to thwart him.
Ragini finally drifted off into a fitful, uneasy slumber. She had a lot on her plate, and truly, one could not envy what had fallen to her lot. But what she was doing was admirable indeed----for it takes a great deal to stand up to one's enemies, but even more so, to stand up to one's friends. Especially if the friend in question, did not even recollect the friendship...
To be Continued...
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1) The Alipore Zoological Gardens in Kolkata is India's oldest formally stated Zoological Park. It was indeed one of the zoos in India to first exhibit Kangaroos (Red Kangaroos, in this case). The zoo also has a captive breeding program for white tigers; and had, controversially in the 1970's, a hybrid program for Panthera (Big Cats). Two Tigons--Rudhrani and Ranjini, were born in 1971 and 1973 respectively, (born to a Lioness, fathered by a Bengal Tiger) with Ranjini passing away in 1999 as the world's oldest known Tigon.
Adwaita was a Giant Aldabra Tortoise, which once belonged to Robert Clive of the East India Company. He was transferred to the Alipore Zoo in 1875 or 1876, and died in 2006, at the ripe old age of 255 years.
2) * ""One of the pitfalls of childhood, is that one doesn't have to understand something in order to feel it. By the time the mind is able to comprehend what has happened, the wounds of the heart are already too deep""-- Is a modified version of the quote from the novel Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Luis Zafon.
3) Sarus Cranes--called krauncha in Sanskrit, are venerated in Hinduism as symbols of marital fidelity and love. In Indian legend, the poet sage Valmiki was so moved when he saw a male Sarus being killed by a hunter, and the female circling the body and lamenting piteously, that he composed his first verse. He was then inspired to compose the Ramayana, with the verse concerning the krauncha, regarded as the first human composed verse ever to be uttered.
4) **- "You are the Ocean and I the wave"--
This lovely sentiment (felt by Swara as she gazes upon Sanskaar), is a modified version of a hymn from the Shiva Purana. The original hymn, which Shiva dedicates to Parvati, goes like this:
I am the Ocean and you the wave,
You are Prakriti and I Purusha
Those who would be familiar with mythology would know the context---As a young, beautiful maiden, Parvati resolves to marry Shiva, to bring him out of his reclusive, austere, cold world of aloofness; which has caused the universe to fall into barren lifelessness. Her devotions aimed at gaining the favor of Shiva, lead to his acceptance and their subsequent marriage---resulting in a glorious regeneration of life.
I do see several elements of Shiv Ji/ Rudra in Sanskaar's character; and of Devi Parvati/ Shakti in Swara's.
5) Dubito Ergo Cogito, Cogito Ergo Sum--- Is a Latin quote by Rene Descartes. Translated, it means: I doubt, therefore I think; I think, therefore I am.
6) It takes a great deal to stand up to one's enemies, but even more to stand up to one's friends: Is a modified version of the quote from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: by JK Rowling.
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Link to Chapters 4, 5 and Epilogue 1 : https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/topic/4650021?pn=9
(Page 9 of this Thread).
As a child, Swara had loved their family outings to the Alipore Zoological Gardens in Kolkata. Her Dida and Ma would take her there on a Sunday, typically once in every 3 or 4 months. They would make an entire day of the trip, being among the first to enter the zoo when it opened at 9 am, and usually staying on right till the closing time of 5 pm. The numerous animal enclosures, as well as the verdant gardens within the Zoo, easily afforded them an enthralling, fun filled day.
Different visitors to the Alipore Zoo had their own favorite animals they loved to see, lingering for several minutes, even upto half an hour, in front of the respective enclosures. Many loved the mob of Red Kangaroos, a very rare sight indeed, in any Indian zoo. Others were fascinated by Adwaita, the Aldabra Giant Tortoise, almost 250 years old already, when the curious, bright eyed 6 year old Swara, first laid eyes on him.
Yet others (Swara's Dida and Ma were amongst them), were enthralled by the White Tigers on display, or the very rare Tigons---Rudhrani and Ranjini, born of a Bengal Tiger father, and a Lioness mother.
But if one were to ask Swara herself, what her favorite animals were---she would, without a moment's hesitation, have picked the Sarus Cranes. These tallest of the flying birds were elegant and stately, their slate grey plumage offering a beautiful contrast to their vibrant, crimson colored heads and upper necks. But it was not just their undeniable beauty which drew Swara's attention.
Even as an innocent child, Swara grew to love, almost venerate these birds, because of their repute as symbols of marital fidelity. They were known to form pair bonds for life, with the death of one bird resulting in its grief stricken mate trumpeting and pining for weeks thereafter---often, reputedly, even starving to death itself.
And who should have appreciated marital adoration, fidelity and constancy more than the young Swara; who never had what most of us take for granted? The warmth of seeing one's parents deeply in love with each other, loyal and faithful companions to each other through life... And unfortunately, there had always been people to point jeering fingers at her mother and herself. One of the pitfalls of childhood, is that one doesn't have to understand something in order to feel it. By the time the mind is able to comprehend what has happened, the wounds of the heart are already too deep. *
Swara had grown into a fine young lady nevertheless, kind, compassionate and with an intense, selfless desire, to see others happy. But even after Shekhar came back into her mother's and her lives, a subdued, deep seated insecurity had remained. One would never have suspected this, seeing her sunny, joyous nature, but that did not mean that the vestige of that insecurity wasn't there, hidden behind the facade.
But all that changed when she fell deeply, irrevocably in love with Sanskaar; with his potent and intense adoration for her, with his unconditional and selfless way of standing by her every decision. After an arduous, often painful journey, they had come home to each other at last. Swara had felt simultaneously more vibrantly alive than she ever had, and more serenely tranquil than she ever had too, wrapped in the gloriously warm cocoon of her husband's love for her.
She had known, as had Sanskaar, that their mutual adoration ran so deep, they could never imagine a life without each other. It was the nature of the passionately intertwined twin souls that they were---neither could survive, or even want to, without the other.
Which was why, during those ghastly days following Sanskaar's fall from the cliff, Swara had just known, with every fiber of her being, that Sanskaar was still alive. The police had deployed expert divers to search the Hooghly in the environs of Kolkata and Howrah; had used drag nets to dredge the depths. They had sent a force of constables to hamlets and shanties on the outskirts of the metropolis, to check if any man had been pulled out of the river. But every effort had drawn a blank. Sanskaar had not been found, and the police had gently conveyed to the Maheshwari and Gadodia families, that it would be rational to conclude that Sanskaar had lost his life; his body probably dashed away by the floods and therefore unlikely to be found.
This grim news had been met with heart breaking sorrow. Sujata had had to be administered a sedative, to somehow enable her to bear the paroxysm of grief into which she descended. Annapurna and Uttara had held themselves together a tad better, but only just. Shomi and Ragini were beside themselves in concern for Swara.
And the menfolk were distraught, too---Shekar, well meaning but a tad ineffectual as he usually was, wept that he did not know how to console his daughter. Ram Prasad suffered a grief so intense, he had been in hardly any position to console his often hysterical wife. At this crushing moment of loss, his mind kept replaying the litany of guilt---you could not support your son the way you should have, when he needed you the most those years ago. And just when he came back, when finally, it looked like he would get the happiness and contentment he so truly deserved, the cruel hands of fate have snatched him away again. Long were Ram's days, and sleepless were his nights, as he railed in silent, tearful rage to the Gods he loved so much. How could they allow this to happen?
Lakshya suffered intense pangs of grief; apart from a strong feeling of survivor's guilt. His Bhai and he had barely had time to repair their fractured relationship; barely had time to return to the "Bhai" and "Lucky" they had always been through their childhood and teen years; instead of the rather colder "Sanskaar" and "Lakshya" they had addressed each other as recently. And now, he would never have his hero, his idol to look up to; his best friend, who could join him in playing the merriest of pranks, while also sternly admonishing him to be more responsible when it mattered.
Durga Prasad, too, was in the grips of an intense, crushing sorrow. It may have been said by some that he had "only" lost a nephew, not one of his own two sons. But then, he had always considered Sanskaar as good as his own son. He was the son after his own heart, and Durga Prasad had been very glad to have him back in the family fold, after their estrangement of years past.
But as he now grappled with the aftermaths of this cataclysm, Durga Prasad resolved that both the families had to find some way of holding themselves together. To ensure that the person hardest hit by this tragedy, could somehow manage to accept this loss, to find a way to survive and recover. But his assumptions about Swara's reactions, in this case at least, had been thoroughly misplaced.
Swara was obviously distraught and tearful at having Sanskaar wrenched from her. She suffered recurrent nightmares of those last moments at the cliff---of Sanskaar's furious attack on Rajat, raining blows on that villain even as he pulled Swara to safety. Both of them had dropped the pistols they had held in their scuffle; but it was Rajat, grievously wounded though still dangerously vindictive, who retrieved his gun first. He had then proceeded to hold Sanskaar at gun point, cackling his insanely sadistic laugh at Swara, that her husband may well have rescued her from being his hostage; but no matter, he held Sanskaar hostage now!
Rajat had never expected Swara to scrabble desperately around and find the pistol, which had slipped from Sanskaar's grasp in the fracas. And even as Sanskaar looked calmly at his wife, pouring all his trust and absolute faith in her in that gaze; she had crouched low, steadying her trembling hands with sheer force of will, her eyes blazing with her indomitable determination to rescue her very purpose of existing. She had fired just the one shot at Rajat---but it had been enough. He had staggered back, mortally wounded---but had then decided, in the throes of death, to pull Sanskaar along with him into the vortex.
The memory of what happened thereafter was seared in Swara's mind---playing in an endless loop. Of her desperate attempts to hold on to Sanskaar, even as he determinedly clutched at a branch at the very edge of the cliff rim. Of Sanskaar gazing at her, ineffable regret and yearning in his eyes, immense sorrow at the thought that he would now be compelled to leave her side. Her last desperate attempts to hold on to his strong, calloused palms with her own dainty ones, and watching in horror, as he plummeted to the depths of the raging torrent below.
Sanskaar's deep, resounding call: I LOVE YOU SWARA...echoed in her ears, even as she clutched his engagement ring which had come off from his finger into her palm, during those last moments. But one thing Swara had known, from the very marrow of her bones, distraught as she was-----her husband, her love, her soulmate, her very reason for drawing breath---- was very much alive.
The Police Commissioner had been very sympathetic, avuncular even, in his empathy towards Swara. He had attempted to explain, that he could understand her shock and sorrow, but there really was no hope anymore, not when all the evidence was against the theory of Sanskaar having been able to survive. Swara had merely glanced at him, her eyes bright with scorn. In a terrifyingly calm voice, she had told him that she had all the proof that was needed---the police need only to confirm the fact that she was not dead yet. As long as her heart still thrummed and she still drew breath, Swara averred with supreme confidence, it meant that Sanskaar was still alive. And nothing---and no one---could convince her otherwise.
The rest of the family oscillated between grief and despair on the one hand, and tenuous hope on the other, the embers of which were fired by the blaze of Swara's undying faith. But as the days grew into weeks, none of the others were ever very sure---each and every one of them had lost hope at some time or the other, and entertained the thought that Sanskaar was probably dead, after all. All, except for Swara...
Part B: You are the Ocean and I the wave...**
Her unshakable, indomitable faith in her bond with her husband had won through, after all. Sanskaar had returned, back home to her. Swara stood in their room, putting things away and generally clearing up for the night; almost incandescent with sheer joy. Yes, she knew she had to tread a bit carefully around Sanskaar, had to be a little equivocal about the events of the past year. The doctor who had accompanied Sanskaar had been very clear on that aspect---Sanskaar had a gaping hole in his memories, dating to about a year and a quarter, prior to the present date. But his family were not to overwhelm him with details, burden him with too much information.
The doctor had been rather protective of this remarkable patient of his, who had won his affection and admiration. Despite the doctor's practiced air of professional reserve, built over his years of caregiving, he had not been able to help placing Sanskaar on a level different from his other patients. He cautioned the Maheshwaris, with a warm concern, that they should allow Sanskaar to recollect his memories of the intervening period in his own time. Any attempt to force these along, to hasten the process of his recovery, could mean that the elusive memories retreated further and further into his psyche.
Swara had been shaken, it must be admitted, to realize that Sanskaar did not really remember her, did not recall the sublime beauty of the love they had shared. But she had not allowed this thought to disturb her utter and complete bliss at his return. She was conscious, as always, of his scrutiny from under the fringe of his luxuriant lashes---it was a habit he had picked up long ago, during the days of their "fake marriage". It had filled her with warmth and contentment then, almost despite herself. And it had a similar effect now.
She glanced up at him, to see Sanskaar hastily looking away from her. Swara was both a tad amused, and rather disappointed. Be patient, Swara...she remonstrated with herself. Sanskaar just realized today that he is married to you! Give him some time to remember, to get comfortable with you again...She blushed prettily, as she remembered how she had clung tightly to him downstairs when he had arrived, sobbing in a near delirious ecstasy of relief, chanting her vows of irrevocable love to him, almost as if they were a catechism.
She could not have realized it yet, but Sanskaar's mind was in a perfect turmoil. He had been informed that he was married to Swara---they had had a love marriage it seemed, and his family were delighted and voluble in their assurance, that their marriage had been very happy indeed. Sanskaar snorted silently to himself. He now knew better than to trust his family---a pit of vipers, that was what they were.
A wonderful love marriage this looked like, indeed, with his wife having taken a shot at him, thought Sanskaar sarcastically. And unbidden, slid a silent, sly thought into his formidable mind. Whatever might have happened then, he certainly did not have a bullet wound, did he?
Sanskaar shook his head impatiently, almost in an attempt to clear it of inconvenient thoughts, which seemed to be seeping into it at every opportunity. Most of them concerning Swara. His wife.
Sanskaar was a very perceptive man, clinical and logical in his thought processes. But mercurially brilliant as he was, even he would have been hard put to explain exactly what were the emotions coursing through him at present; as he cast covert glances at a blushing Swara, who was going about tidying his----No, their room.
At one level, there was a smug sense of satisfaction, that perhaps, his plan of a little over a year ago, seemed to have worked after all. He had apparently separated Lucky from the woman he supposedly loved, and claimed her for himself. Again, almost despite himself, Sanskaar felt a powerful rush of possessive, masculine territoriality at that thought---the fact that Swara was his, at least by the vows they had apparently taken together. This emotion coursed through him, warm and overpowering, before he tamped it down with a half uttered growl of frustration.
Even as Swara glanced concernedly at him, wondering if she had heard him say something, Sanskaar, again unbidden, felt a new emotion. One that he had, to his recollection, not felt in over 5 years. He felt a considerable measure of self loathing and disgust, for what he had apparently done. Perhaps, after all, Swara had enough reason to shoot at him---had he pushed her to that, perhaps by treating her as collateral damage, a trophy of war, almost? Marrying her, perhaps, in order to make her unavailable, unattainable to Lucky?
He wanted to march over to where she stood, grasp her tightly by her shoulders and demand that she tell him the truth. But that would not work now, would it? He had cunningly insinuated to the good doctor what his state of memory was, and stoked the doctor's concern on what to tell his family. He wanted to have the time and opportunity to watch their reactions like a hawk. Durga Prasad's and Lucky's, in particular. He knew that a very good weapon against his foes, was their own complacence. And when the time was ripe, he would plunge down on them like a peregrine falcon swooping on a flock of pigeons. Revenge was a dish best served cold, after all...
But to his utter frustration, Sanskaar found that all his clinical, ruthless planning seemed to falter at his ever present thoughts of Swara. Earlier that day, When she had come dashing down the stairs and flung herself into his arms, she had taken his breath away with that expression on her face. As if her whole world revolved around him, as if he meant the entire universe to her. Sanskaar wanted so dearly, to tear that memory out of his mind----that thought of her enchanting face, bewitching with its sublime, incandescent burst of love. But try as he might, he found that he could not.
His heart, that most inconvenient and traitorous of organs, kept expanding with a powerful burst of joy, each time he thought of that look. And, despite his best attempts at self control, he seemed unable to stop himself from casting lingering glances at her. Don't be a damned fool, Sanskaar!! He cursed himself. She is exactly the same now, as she was a couple of minutes before. With the only difference, that she was standing by the wardrobe earlier, whereas she is clearing something from the couch now. What does it matter?? Why are you looking at her??
But alas, his eyes, like his heart, seemed to have acquired a mind of their own. They continued to gaze, and to their heart's content, at that. And then, suddenly, at the sight of Swara near the couch, a ghost of a memory, a mere fragment, really, slid into Sanskaar's still healing psyche. Of him stretching his lithe, athletic frame on that rather uncomfortable couch, his long legs dangling over one end. He really would have paid someone very good money now, if only they had been able to prevent that bewildering sense of betrayal and hurt which flashed through him. So this so called love marriage did not seem to involve love from her side after all----she had apparently not wanted to share a bed with him, had she??
He muttered yet another quiet growl of frustration, brushing his hands through his luxuriant mane, grabbing fistfuls of his own hair and giving them quick, sharp tugs. Be on your guard Sanskaar! He swore to himself. You are the hunter. Do not become the hunted!
He broke into impersonal speech, in a valiant attempt to keep his thoughts in check. "So which side of the bed did I used to sleep on?" he asked, his voice sounding a bit tinny even to his own ears; before biting his own tongue in his rage at himself. Are you hoping she will explain why you took the couch, you fool? Swara, however, was smiling guilelessly at him, innocently unaware of the maelstrom of doubts swirling through Sanskaar's mind. "I used to sleep on the right side---You said I was always right!" she said with a merry, tinkling laugh, which made the corners of Sanskaar's mouth twitch upwards involuntarily, before he pulled his lips downwards again with considerable effort. "You---well, you used to start off sleeping on the left side, but you more or less wound up on my side by morning", she continued, and then her cheeks flooded with color, at the implications of what she'd just told her still-amnesiac husband.
"Where are my night clothes?" Sanskaar asked, in a rush, and rather fiercely. He had caught himself thinking yearningly, how Swara looked just like a lovely magnolia blossom, with its outer petals of creamy, ivory-like iridescence, contrasting with its inner petals of a soft, pink hue. His wife's almost translucently soft cheeks, with the delicate pink blush underneath, were so beautiful, he thought----before jolting himself out of his reverie with renewed fury at himself.
Swara had already walked over to the wardrobe, opened it, and turned to look at Sanskaar smilingly. His breath stilled slightly as he saw the wardrobe still full of all the clothes he had apparently left behind.
He did not remember anything of the days of their marriage, but he did know his systematic, orderly nature very well. There was no way he would have kept his clothes like this---not in the least bit carefully ordered, not his clothes on one side and hers on the other. But rather, all mingled together, shirts, blazers, sarees, salwars, T Shirts, trousers, pajamas and suits, all mixed up in no particular order or arrangement. Sanskaar turned an incredulous look at Swara, quirking one furry brow enquiringly.
She flushed a little. "When you were gone...I missed you so terribly, you know? I mean...you probably don't know, considering that you don't remember much, if anything, of our marriage. But I pined for you, Sanskaar. I knew you would come back to me, I always knew you were alive, that you wouldn't leave me like this. But I missed having you by my side. Somehow, having your clothes all mixed up with mine---it made me feel closer to you, as if you were back with me, in a way. Does that make sense?"
Sanskaar shook his head dumbly, the breath knocked clean out of his lungs. If one had asked him, if he had nodded his head in the affirmative or in negation, he would not have been able to answer. He himself, had no idea what he thought or felt at that moment.
But before he could react, Sanskaar saw Swara leaning forward to open a drawer in the wardrobe, pulling out a black beaded necklace which looked very much like a mangalsutra. Sanskaar's glance flashed quickly to Swara's neck, and he saw that she was wearing one all right---with a delicate, understated but extremely stylish diamond pendant in white gold, flanked by two rows of black beads on the sides, which ended half way to a delicate gold chain again. Very aesthetic, he thought to himself, with quiet pride, again without his conscious volition. Something which I would surely choose...
In what was becoming a pattern of behavior in less than half a day, he broke his own inconvenient thoughts with hasty speech. "You had two mangalsutras?" he queried, again with a curious quirk of his eyebrow. "Yes", smiled Swara. "Its a very long story, and I'll tell you more another day---now is not the best time, considering what the doctor said about not overburdening you with details. But I needed to give this back to you..."
And gently unclasping the mangalsutra, which Sanskaar now observed, seemed to have been broken and then very carefully mended, Swara revealed a ring which had been held safely in its confines. Sanskaar looked into her eyes questioningly, rather at sea at what was going on.
"Its yours", she said, her voice choking up with the intensity of her emotion, a few tears springing involuntarily to her eyes. Sanskaar felt truly wretched, her recollected anguish feeling as if somebody had stabbed him right through his heart, but also feeling uneasy and frustrated as to why he felt this way. "I don't want to go into more details now...but the day you...fell; our engagement ring which you wore, came off in my hand. Now that you are back, you need to wear it again", Swara said softly. Not able to explain more, given the doctor's cautionary expostulation.
Sanskaar reached his hand out, almost in a trance, expecting that Swara would place the ring in his outstretched palm. But she misunderstood his gesture---fortunately, perhaps? She reached down to his hand, stretching his ring finger out, and slipped the ring over his knuckle and back to where it belonged.
Sanskaar breathed in shallow breaths, betraying the nerves that his non committal expression managed to mask so very well. He wouldn't know for some time yet, how often in these past terrible weeks, his wife had clutched that ring tight, and allowed herself to dream that they had never been separated.
Sanskaar looked down at the ring, and then at the woman that had placed it on his finger; and who was looking at him with such enormous adoration in her sparkling eyes. His heart felt curiously light again, even as it expanded to what seemed like ten times its usual size. He felt a rush of warmth course through him, even as his hand tingled where she'd touched him. This was going to be a tortuous, sleepless night, thought Sanskaar, dejected, to himself. If only he could think logically through what he felt...He would call Nakul first thing tomorrow, he decided. And through him, the Bakshi brothers as well. Time to put together the pieces, of what had transpired in his life in the last 15 months or so...
Part 3: Dubito Ergo Cogito, Cogito Ergo Sum ***
Ragini listened to Lakshya's excited, voluble chatter indulgently, as they got ready to go to bed. She could not help but get enthused at her husband's obvious elation at this wonderful turn of events, the fact that his Bhai had returned home, surviving against the odds.
Lakshya had matured considerably over the past months of their shared privation, Ragini reflected. She shuddered involuntarily, as she briefly recollected the terrible wounds they had inflicted on each other, literally tearing each other apart before they had realized they had found their love in each other. She pushed those thoughts firmly away, where they belonged. In their past. She had changed too, finally being able to comprehend the monster she had become, in her jealous, all consuming infatuation. That moment of clarity, of perspective, had stricken her with remorse. Her reconciliation with Lakshya had been a gradual, steady rapprochement; with neither of them trying to hurry the process, or indeed, taking it for granted that they would finally be able to forgive and accept each other. But it had all worked out in the end.
Sending another indulgent look her husband's way, Ragini reflected, once again, that though Lakshya was much more aware of his responsibilities now, the consequences of his actions; in many ways, he still retained quite a bit of the child within him. Though he had walked briefly on the dark side, and caused her, as well as himself, considerable pain in the process, there was a transparent simplicity about Lakshya---a laid back, charmingly happy-go-lucky nature. He would simply never be predisposed to doubt; to analyze or to question. And maybe, thought Ragini, that was in a way his greatest strength, as well as his greatest weakness.
But she, on the other hand, having tasted the bitter flavor of remorse for her own conduct, for having let her own dark side completely overpower all the good, all the light within her; was now predisposed to doubt any symptoms of recurring darkness in others. Even in those she held in considerable regard and affection.
Ragini felt a lot of admiration for Sanskaar. He was linked to her in relationships two fold---he was both her Jeejaji, and her Jethji. But perhaps deeper than both, and which caused her considerable guilt, was the bond of friendship they had shared long ago. They had allied for a nefarious purpose, it was true, repellent and manipulative. But Sanskaar had tried subsequently to push her away from the sordid plans; warning her that this conniving was doing her no good. And then, he had seen the light, not wanting to plot and scheme and hurt innocents anymore. But she had been well past reason by that time.
Sanskaar had honored that friendship, motivated and shallow though some may have considered it, to the very best of his ability. But she...Ragini shuddered again, the bitter taste of her regret, her unfinished, unfulfilled redemption, still acid on her tongue. She had betrayed his secret to his family, despite knowing that he had sincerely repented, and was no longer trying to cause them harm. And even worse was to follow, when she had repellently accused him of attempting to molest her.
It was times like these that Ragini wished The Time Machine had existed in reality, so she could go back into the past and wipe her slate clean, to start afresh. She would do many things differently...so very many things.
She was brought out of her reverie by Lakshya wrapping a strong arm around her, boyishly pouting and asking why his wife's thoughts were so far away from him; before demanding that she give him their customary Good night kiss.
Some considerable time later, her carefully ordered hair now in rampant disarray, and a beatific smile on her ravishingly beautiful face, Ragini got back to pondering her earlier train of thought. Lakshya contentedly flopped down next to her, an arm possessively round his wife.
It amazed Ragini, how none of the Maheshwaris seemed to have joined the dots from what the doctor said, or had noticed the rather odd way Sanskaar was behaving. That look of utter revulsion and loathing in his glowing eyes when Lakshya had embraced him-----Ragini still felt a chill go down her spine, as she recollected it.
She just might have concluded that she had imagined that look---if it had not been for the doctor's advice. He had stated quite clearly, that Sanskaar had little, if no memories at all, of the preceding 15 months or so. And yet, none of the family seemed to be the least bit worried, that the Sanskaar of 15 months ago, was hardly the Sanskaar he had become, after Swara had entered his life.
Ragini felt a rush of panic at the thought of Swara, bile rising in her throat at the thought of whether Sanskaar would do anything to harm her. But on cooler reflection, Ragini shook her head. No, Sanskaar would not be able to do that. Even all those months ago, when he was bitterly vindictive, ruthless in his planning on how to bring the Maheshwari empire to its knees, he had not been able to treat Swara as collateral damage for long. Her innocence and sheer goodness had won him over. Ragini bit her lip thoughtfully, immersed in pensive contemplation. No, she decided. Sanskaar would not harm Swara in any way now---at least, he just would not be able to. What could, however, break Swara's heart was if Sanskaar made her think he could not grow to love her in the future, did not care to recollect anything about her, or did not intend to give their marriage a real chance. Ragini resolved to keep a hawk's eye on Swara. Her sister, she thought with a wry smile, was very talented in keeping her feelings to herself. But she, Ragini, set great store by her own instincts and perceptive abilities; and at the risk of sounding arrogant, Ragini thought she outscored her sister in this department. She would do what it took to keep Swara safe, to protect her from heartbreak. That was the very least she could do----for both Swara, and Sanskaar.
Having thought of her sister, Ragini's worried mind now dwelt on the possible implications of an amnesiac Sanskaar's plans on Lakshya. She remembered very well, that 15 months ago, Sanskaar had wanted nothing more than to crush Lakshya's happiness, and chip away at the foundations of Maheshwari and Sons, till the firm collapsed into bankruptcy and disrepute. Would he attempt something similar again? The last time, he had arrayed his battle formations, through his firm---Karma & Co. But now that he himself had played a major part, in merging the firms into the powerhouse---Maheshwari, Karma and Sons; what could his plan be?
Ragini did not know, and for the moment, could not guess what her erstwhile friend and guru would now be upto. But she intended, with all the guile and wiles she possessed---- traits which she had honed watching Sanskaar's skills, no less----to do her very best to thwart him.
Ragini finally drifted off into a fitful, uneasy slumber. She had a lot on her plate, and truly, one could not envy what had fallen to her lot. But what she was doing was admirable indeed----for it takes a great deal to stand up to one's enemies, but even more so, to stand up to one's friends. Especially if the friend in question, did not even recollect the friendship...
To be Continued...
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Footnotes and References
1) The Alipore Zoological Gardens in Kolkata is India's oldest formally stated Zoological Park. It was indeed one of the zoos in India to first exhibit Kangaroos (Red Kangaroos, in this case). The zoo also has a captive breeding program for white tigers; and had, controversially in the 1970's, a hybrid program for Panthera (Big Cats). Two Tigons--Rudhrani and Ranjini, were born in 1971 and 1973 respectively, (born to a Lioness, fathered by a Bengal Tiger) with Ranjini passing away in 1999 as the world's oldest known Tigon.
Adwaita was a Giant Aldabra Tortoise, which once belonged to Robert Clive of the East India Company. He was transferred to the Alipore Zoo in 1875 or 1876, and died in 2006, at the ripe old age of 255 years.
2) * ""One of the pitfalls of childhood, is that one doesn't have to understand something in order to feel it. By the time the mind is able to comprehend what has happened, the wounds of the heart are already too deep""-- Is a modified version of the quote from the novel Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Luis Zafon.
3) Sarus Cranes--called krauncha in Sanskrit, are venerated in Hinduism as symbols of marital fidelity and love. In Indian legend, the poet sage Valmiki was so moved when he saw a male Sarus being killed by a hunter, and the female circling the body and lamenting piteously, that he composed his first verse. He was then inspired to compose the Ramayana, with the verse concerning the krauncha, regarded as the first human composed verse ever to be uttered.
4) **- "You are the Ocean and I the wave"--
This lovely sentiment (felt by Swara as she gazes upon Sanskaar), is a modified version of a hymn from the Shiva Purana. The original hymn, which Shiva dedicates to Parvati, goes like this:
I am the Ocean and you the wave,
You are Prakriti and I Purusha
Those who would be familiar with mythology would know the context---As a young, beautiful maiden, Parvati resolves to marry Shiva, to bring him out of his reclusive, austere, cold world of aloofness; which has caused the universe to fall into barren lifelessness. Her devotions aimed at gaining the favor of Shiva, lead to his acceptance and their subsequent marriage---resulting in a glorious regeneration of life.
I do see several elements of Shiv Ji/ Rudra in Sanskaar's character; and of Devi Parvati/ Shakti in Swara's.
5) Dubito Ergo Cogito, Cogito Ergo Sum--- Is a Latin quote by Rene Descartes. Translated, it means: I doubt, therefore I think; I think, therefore I am.
6) It takes a great deal to stand up to one's enemies, but even more to stand up to one's friends: Is a modified version of the quote from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone: by JK Rowling.
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Link to Chapters 4, 5 and Epilogue 1 : https://www.indiaforums.com/forum/topic/4650021?pn=9
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