Chapter One
Chapter One
August 2012
For some reasons unknown to him, both his mother and sister decided that it was time for him to get married. After all, he was the only son in the family that was not yet married, too busy to build a career and now, as they had said, too old for any father to even consider him as a prospective groom for his beautiful, unmarried daughter. He had argued, restraining with difficulty the urge to let out the frustration with every colorful word in the face of earth in a low, dangerous pitch that often helped him have everything in his way in both his professional and personal life.
He wanted to laugh. Without caring about the audience his uncontrollable laughter would gain, without having an ounce of awareness that his action would otherwise ruin the image he had painted himself with his indifference as a stoned man who cared for self, he wanted to laugh till it would empty all the anger he felt in that moment towards his mother and sister, the only women he loved and respected.
Only if he could drain out the high pitched voices regarding designer lehengas and mutual amusement laughter's over a joke one of his cousins cracked that he failed to understand, could he able to channel his energies into much more profitable issues like finalizing a contract with Mr. Vadia on the piece of land in Southern Delhi where one of his company's clients was planning to construct a three-star tourist hotel, or short listing the terms and conditions of Mr. Desai's project about a local cafeteria's capital infusion. But no, he was forced to give his word that he wouldn't work for a whole five hours after persisting pleadings and blackmailing from the two women who were, at that moment, seated on the either sides of the young woman in her mid-twenties, chatting away about her childhood, likes and dislikes.
Arnav Singh Raizada was speechless, at the never-dying hopeless romantic souls of his mother and sister, at the father and brother-in-law for being that cheesy and sassy heroes walking right out of Karan Johar's and Yash Chopra's overtly budgeted movies, at the extended family for their willingness to accompany their unromantic, stubborn nephew who finally gave in to the family's whims, and at the equally foolish cousins who wanted to be there by his side, offering their "support" as he spend the torturous hours meeting a beautiful, and hopefully his wife-to-be, woman.
Smiling politely at something the father of the woman shared that he was least bothered to listen, and his response to the elder man was a result of endless lectures his mother had infected in his mind from an early age in the name of respect, Arnav sipped onto his mug of Mocha as he eyed the sparsely crowded coffee shop, the coffee taking its highest rank in his life in that moment as he tagged it as his closest friend.
He suppressed the chain of profanities that positioned dangerously at the tip of his tongue, leaning in every now and then, at his mother's natural, innocent smile or at his sister's naughty, cunning wink. Why wouldn't they understand that he was not yet ready for a commitment? That he wanted to achieve much more on professional front before tying himself down with responsibilities he wasn't about to accept? That, most importantly, he was not old enough to get married? He was just, after all, twenty-nine.
With the newly discovered emotion that he wasn't aware he was capable of, helplessness as they called, Arnav shifted his gaze from a small group of friends, who just walked in with their own set of loud voices and unpleasant laughter, to the woman who happened to be the sole purpose of fixing this meeting. The cream, flawless complexion of her skin glowing with an innocent radiance, the midnight black of her smooth, long hair that was left open fanned her forehead and the emerald of a simple, netted saree complementing her round face - Simran Joshi was everything he would be attracted to. Tall, slender and intellectual, the kind of woman Arnav loved to date. But that was all. To promise a life time, he was sure she wasn't the one he would give his commitment to.
It was with these thoughts that he found himself facing her, his family chattering and walking away from the table they had been occupying. Arnav stared around him to meet his cousins grins and sighed at the situation he trapped himself in. He watched them as both the families stepping out of the coffee shop, giggling and chuckling as they turned around to glance at him for a final time, and soft, encouraging smiles at her.
He leaned back as he let out a breath of relief, a genuine smile for the first time in the past two hours greeting the woman in front of him. This was the moment he was waiting for, to discourage any notions of relationship the poor woman was encouraged to build by any or both their families and as politely as he could. "This is awkward." He said as he placed the mug back on the table.
He saw her nodding in approval even as she smiled back. "This is definitely not the way I imagined meeting you. Parents are fine to an extent. By extended families too?"
He smiled and looked away. How was he even supposed to talk to her when she seemed to be a nice and friendly woman? Because, for one thing, he could never bring himself to say no to anyone without being a downright jerk. As much his skills had been one of his many vices that assured him nothing but success as a Business Analyst, communicating in his private life had been the only thing that most of the times ruined even the promising relationships.
He scanned aimlessly around the caf and his gaze fell on the same group of friends who were gathered around a round table beside his own, their eyes fixed on a girl as they all leaned in, listening to whatever she was sharing with rapt attention.
His gaze refused to leave the group, the mere thought of the impending conversation with Simran shook him off-guard as he drummed his fingers on the table at a lazy pace, his eyes on the speaker/narrator. The olive tone of her skin illuminated a shade of golden hue under early evening's rays. The curly browns were loosely braided and pulled over on her shoulder while her kohl filled eyes sparkled as she leaned in, her hands drumming on her bag that was placed above the table. There was an innocent grin as she paused in middle, her eyes scanning her audience before resuming with a chuckle when they requested her, the faint rose on her cheeks as she beamed with childlike excitement.
Arnav smiled at the sight of them, his mind coming up with topics she would be sharing with her friends as he shook his head softly. But before he could come up with the topic or push the thought aside and focus his undivided attention on Simran, a loud, cheerful voice greeted from across the coffee shop. Arnav looked around to find several heads turned at the direction of main entry door and he followed the gaze to find a young man, probably in his early twenties. Arnav followed the intruder's gaze and found himself staring at the group of friends while she rolled her eyes.
"Come on now, Khushi. No one can save you to get away from the evening I planned for you."
Arnav watched, amazed at the rather interesting conversation, her only to have her groaned in irritation even as she gathered her belongings. "My twin will be the death of me one day." She uttered rather loudly and then turned around as she smiled sarcastically. "Right away, brother!"
Arnav shook his head and shifted in his seat, looking at Simran who had been waiting for him to initiate the conversation. Clearing his throat, Arnav leaned in, hands on the table as he looked straight in her eyes. "Simran, you're a beautiful woman. And I'm sure a relationship with you will be as beautiful as you are. But I'm not ready for any serious relationship..."
__________
January, 2015
"You spent the whole day in your room."
She felt the disappointment seep onto her before she heard it in his voice. She refused to look at him, continuing to stare the dusk through the window. She had been gazing out throughout the day, her limbs numb as a result of hours of discomfort as she sat on the window ledge. Her mother had come thrice to check in on her and her elder sister once in every seventy-five minutes, none of them providing any amounts of satisfying answers to her constant questions. It irked her, so much that she had shouted at her sister the last time she visited and was glad that they didn't come up after her outburst.
Khushi could feel the restlessness building within her as she spent most of the day thinking over and over again to remember something that held answers to her life, and studying the files of her illness. In all the things that she gathered, she had met with an accident that resulted amnesia. And if she were to accept the fact with sensibility, she knew that her chance to get her memory back was absolutely thin. That was something that only happened in movies. So, whatever it was that happened in the three years of her life, she was never going to have that life back. With her vision blurring with angry tears, she gazed down into the page of her journal, the two options staring back at her.
Seek answers and get my life back
Start afresh and get my life back
"Khushi"
She tilted her head, unable to ignore him anymore. There was a glimpse of sadness in his eyes that she would have jumped off and hugged her twin for so long that sadness wouldn't be left with any other option but to leave him. Yet, she couldn't bring herself in that moment as she herself was lost and confused, her heart pleading her to travel on two different boats at a time with their destinations in the opposite direction.
"I'm not in a mood to entertain your worries, Aarav." She snapped back, closing her journal with a definite slap. She looked up at him as she thought about what he had said, and what he had not said. He was her twin, the one she shared everything without holding back. Her brother who always looked after her despite being just ten minutes elder, always treating her as his kid, was now telling her that he was not aware of the happenings in her life. She shook her head. Whatever it was that happened, there was no doubt that he wouldn't be clueless. He made sure of that. She made sure of that.
"What are you hiding?" She asked, her voice soft despite the anger she felt for her brother. She watched, her eyes taking in the slightest movements as he sat beside her on the window ledge. "I know there can never be a single moment that I didn't confide in you. So whatever it is, you can tell me."
The slightest, almost invisible guilt shimmered in his eyes and Khushi laughed bitterly as she arched a brow challengingly. She waited as seconds tickled by while Aarav looked ahead, his eyes unfocused and blank. But when he spoke, his voice remained clear and honest. "Sometimes, some things are better left forgotten, Khush."
Khushi stared at him, unable to believe that her brother was the one suggesting her to leave everything behind. She shook her head, the myriad of emotions she failed to name suffocating her as she gulped a deep breath. She could sense the key to her past at a grasping distance. She could feel her heart picking up its pace as she stared at the ring on her finger, her eyes blinking back the tears. "How can I let go of everything when this is mocking at me?" Her voice barely a whisper as she demanded her brother. "How can I not know when there's clearly a man in my life?"
"Khush." Her brother snapped back, his eyes flaring with anger so intense that she had never witnessed in him in her life. "I know what's best for you, Khushi. Knowing your past is definitely not for the best."
Khushi sighed, tired of hearing what her family thought was best for her. "You do know me, Aarav." She said slowly as she stared him. "I'm not going to forget everything and start afresh. If you're not going to tell me, then fine. I'll ask Payal Di. Or Mom or Dad. Someone, anyone..."
"No one knows." Aarav said plainly, his eyes softened as he placed a palm on her cheek, his thumb wiping off a lone tear that escaped from the corner of her eye. "You want to know why I think this is for your best? Because he proved, time and again, that he's not the one for you, Khushi. With him, you'd turn into this woman I fail to recognize. Every time you ask him to meet me, he refused. Every time you ask him to meet our family, he refused. And every f**king time you ask him to name your relationship, he refused. I can't accept a man who couldn't even tell what she is to him in my sister's life."
Khushi closed her eyes as she fisted her hands around her journal, unable to accept the hostility in her brother's voice for the man who happened to hold a special place in her heart, for the man whose memory she had been searching in the blackness coffins of her mind.
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