Chapter 1

"Sometimes you just don't know how you describe something. And then you end up giving it the tag of being complicated when in reality you know that it might be simpler than comprehending a straight line...'"

***

I stood staring out of the window; watching as a pigeon flew towards me; its wings extended at the fullest as they fluttered against the wind, the tail fanning behind it in an arc. Maybe it noticed me standing by the window a bit late, because it shied away from me suddenly and rested itself on the fence. It trampled its wings as it held its grip on the thin wooden bar. It looked left and right a couple of times; curving its neck at weird angles and then flew away without any reason. Just like it had come...

"Aey Titaliya! Your chai is ready!"

"Yes, Buaji... Coming...", I replied back; raising my voice slightly so that Buaji could hear me across the rooms.

I have never been a good liar. Sometimes I wish I were. I don't want to call it ironic but surprisingly, there are just too many lies I am living with. I can't manipulate like he does; though sometimes I wish I knew how to. My six months were over yesterday. But I still haven't gathered up the courage to remove the mangalsutra he had tied around my neck or wipe the sindoor off my forehead. I don't know if I can ever do them away. Maybe not. They will be there. Probably for the rest of my life...

"Fabricated decorations don't make the world beautiful. The world is as heartless and as callous as it had always been."

His words rang in my mind. That was all what was left with me about him - his words, his memories... But I disagreed with his thoughts immediately; like always. Just that he wasn't there in front of me to take my argument head-on this time. But that didn't matter anyway; I always knew there would be a time when he won't be there with me.

And the mangalsutra and the sindoor weren't fabricated. They told the world that I belong with him; that I was his; that he was mine. And strangely enough, I don't seem to care anymore what he thinks; of me; of himself; or of anyone, for that matter. Because I never meant anything to him. He said it so. A simple fact that he had engraved on my heart with a drill. Time after time... Again and again... Till it bled endlessly. But now there wasn't anything left of it. But it bled... Still. I don't know how. And it ached... Still. Weird; I know!

And just like everything about me and him; it didn't matter that he meant everything to me. Koi farak nahi padta...

He was right; like he had always been; my conscious debated with the ruins of my battered heart. Life is anything, but beautiful. Sometimes, I wonder why I didn't believe him about this. Maybe I should have. But I don't know why I chose to live in fairy-tales when I was supposed to be living in reality. And I don't know why he forced me to live in reality; when all I wanted was to dream about fantasies. But again; just by not wearing the mangalsutra and sindoor won't make me Khushi Kumari Gupta again. There will always be a Singh Raizada attached to my name... A silent pronunciation, maybe. Something that I would keep just to myself and never reveal it to anybody. Or maybe I would. I don't know.

"Aa gayi Sanka Devi?", Buaji's words pulled me out of my thoughts, "Your chai is getting cold now. Should I make it again for you?"

"No", I replied quickly, "No Buaji, it's okay; I'll do it."

I didn't know when I left the living room; nor did I realize when I walked to the kitchen counter with the cup of tea in my hand. I didn't remember me lifting the cup from the table; maybe it flew to me for all I cared! I poured the tea in a fresh pot and lit the stove. One tiny blue flame of butane around the burner erupted to life with one spark from the lighter and ran around the perimeter to give a full-blown flame. I put the pot on the flame and I watched it. Silently. The small bubbles around the edges of the pot started swelling as I heard faint ticking of the clock from somewhere in the kitchen. But I just stared at it. Doing nothing...

"Khusie, when is damaadji coming to pick you up?", Amma's voice startled me from somewhere behind. I quickly turned off the gas; afraid that the tea might spill over if I left it on any longer.

"I don't know, Amma", I lied flatly; "He didn't say the time." I was getting good at it. Seriously.

I drained my tea back into my cup and put the pot into the sink. I stood there; staring out of the kitchen window with my cup in my hand for god knows how long. I watched silently as the bright blue of the sky faded into a mystic blur of dull crimson and purple. Shapeless grey clouds floated across the window. But I didn't know the actual distance they soared in the endless skies. For I never knew the greater picture. Never. I always saw everything from boundaries of the window... Somehow I was always confined to the smaller picture. I wish I wasn't.

"He's a good guy, Garima", I heard Buaji tell Amma, "Maybe they just had a fight."

"But jiji, it's been an entire day and there has been no call from him for her."

I walked a couple of steps away from the counter and sipped my tea absent-mindedly. I was surprised that it was still warm. Maybe I misjudged the time. Maybe I wasn't staring at the clouds for as long as I had thought. I was almost to the living room when I saw both of them sitting on the couch.

"Don't worry", Buaji kept her hand on Amma's shoulder, "Arnav bitwa loves our Khusie. Didn't you realize that during the week they stayed here? Whatever is the problem, it's between the husband and wife. Both of them are grown-ups now, we shouldn't interfere."

Husband and wife... I didn't know there would ever come a time when these words would hurt so much. I adored that relation above everything. But of course, isn't it obvious that my dreams were never meant to be true?

And here I had me, hopelessly waiting for him to come and take me home. If only I could call that palace home. It always felt like one. And I knew that he was not going to come. Because maybe he himself doesn't know that six months are over today. Maybe it hasn't dawned upon him yet. But it will... Soon. I hope.

And then there was Buaji and Amma; who loved him as their own. And then there was Di; for whom he meant her life. And there was Jiji and Jiju; who respected him for everything he was. And then Nani; who just loved him - who fought with him; taught him her values - but just loved him for whatever he was; however he was...

"Itne bhi bure nahi hai humare Chotey..."

I recalled Di's words from what seemed like a different age. I didn't know how to comprehend those words then; and I'm not sure I know how to understand them now. I have come a long way since then, no doubt. But in the opposite direction, I guess... If I ever claimed to know him; ever; then perhaps I should have understood those words. There were moments when I felt I know him; and there were moments when there stood a complete stranger in front of me with the face of Arnav Singh Raizada...

I heard a rush of wind outside the window and a few droplets flew in my direction. I ran to the window and closed it; pulling the frames towards me. I bolted the window so that it won't open again with the wind. I noticed water on the window-sill. I sighed; knowing that I would have to wipe it dry before the wood swelled because of the moisture. I turned on my heels to grab a cloth from the dryer but something caught my attention.

I saw a single ray of light that filter through the glass and fall on the uncountable water droplets. One by one. Something purple came in my direction from a single drop of water that lay stationary on the window-sill. I waited; standing mesmerized by the sheer purity of that colour. My head bent to the right; maybe my sub-conscious was keen to observe more about that divine purple that spread uniformly over the surface. And then I saw it.

The colour changed to the deepest of blue. Right before my eyes... I didn't know how it happened. I didn't know when and how, but I felt the skin above my eyes stretch to its maximum as my eye-brows flew up in curiosity. I walked a step to that fascinating source of kaleidoscopic light. And it happened again. There was a tinge of green in that; giving it an appearance of fully bloomed plumage of a dancing peacock...

I frowned. My mind wasn't sharp at calculations; never. But I still analysed what was happening before me. I don't know if I was right at it; maybe not. Maybe yes...

Maybe there was more to that pigeon that flew away minutes before. Maybe there was a reason that it came. And maybe there was a reason that it left. Just because I failed to see it; it doesn't mean it wasn't there... Just like my beliefs in something doesn't make him wrong...

Sometimes it becomes very difficult to know someone... Straight or convoluted... Maybe there was more to Arnav Singh Raizada than what I knew of him; if I knew him that is...

***

When you were standing in the wake of devastation

When you were waiting on the edge of the unknown

With the cataclysm raining down

Your insides crying "Save me now"

You were there, impossibly alone

Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?

You build up hope, but failures all you've known

Remember all the sadness and frustration

And let it go

Let it go...*

***

...THE END...

*Credit for the song - Linkin Park

I retain all the rights and ownership of this One Shot. Kindly do not reproduce this elsewhere or claim it as your own. For all my other works on ArHi, visit my GALLERY.

P.S. About the continuation, as many of you have requested; I really don't know if I can commit for the next part. I'm very sorry for this! But it's the lack of time which is tying my hands at the moment! Besides, I have no clue how to continue with this! 😛

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