Prologue

4 months ago

Pearl_Oyster

@Pearl_Oyster

Lucknow: August, 2005

The evening had succumbed to darkness and the sky was cloaked in heavy clouds. Khushi sat beneath the huge banyan tree, on the cemented platform that circled the the tree's massive trunk; swinging her legs back and forth. It was a good thing that the warden was not around or she would have scolded Khushi for swinging her legs.

“Why?” Khushi would always ask with a spark of defiance in her eyes.

“It just is. Do not do it again,” the warden would say— the answer was never enough to quench her curiosity or restrain her restlessness. And so, she would wait for the warden’s back to turn before swinging her legs once more, feeling the thrill of small rebellions.

But tonight, there was no rebellion. Tonight, the rhythmic swinging was her only solace, a distraction from the thoughts that spurred tears in her eyes every time she spared them a moment’s worth of attention. For half an hour now, she had been sitting here, allowing the rain to weave its way through the thick foliage above until the fat droplets began to splatter onto her dress. The fabric darkened under the onslaught, and as she looked at the wet patches on her dress, the tenuous hold she had kept on her tears broke. Tears began falling one after another.

This frock was one of her favorites. She had received it for her birthday last year, a gift far too costly to have come from the warden’s meager allowance, especially with three other children sharing the same birth month. No, this dress had been a gift because of him. It was the same frock she had liked on their trip to the city. She had told him she would like to have a frock like that. He had remembered. Of course he had! He always remembered everything about her. He was her best friend.

As though her thoughts itself had summoned him, he appeared. Stepping into the courtyard with hurried strides, his gaze swept across the grounds and landed on her small figure beneath the tree. He ran towards her, his hand raised in a wave, as droplets of rain cascaded from his dark hair.

“Why are you sitting here in the rain? You will ruin the dress,” he scolded gently, concern lining his voice. It was then she realized the rain had thickened. Her dress was completely soaked. That explained why she was shivering.

“And you are going to catch a cold,” he added, his worry unmistakable.

“Khushi,” he called her name when she did not reply, when all she did was sit there, swinging her legs as if she could somehow swing away the ache inside her chest.

“Are you still not talking to me?” he asked, his tone softening with a trace of hurt.

She looked at him then, and her gaze took in the crisp newness of his clothes—a freshly pressed white shirt, blue jeans, and polished black shoes. He looked as if he was dressed for a new beginning. Which was exactly the case! Another tear slipped down her cheek, unnoticed by the rain. But he saw it.

“I don’t want to go,” he said, his voice cracking, though she knew he was only trying to comfort her.

There had been excitement beneath his reluctance all throughout the week—how could there not be? Wasn’t this the dream of every child here? A home? Parents? She knew because she wanted it too.

But, no one wanted her. No one had come to adopt her. She was not as lucky as him.

“I will miss you, Khushi. You are my only friend,” he murmured as he sat down beside her. She did not mention that he was ruining his new clothes too.

“Arvind Uncle is already here in his car. He is waiting in the warden’s office. I told him about you… he wants to meet you before we leave,” he said, his voice tinged with a kind of hesitant hope.

Khushi wiped her tears with the back of her hand and rose to her feet. He stood as well, a silent entreaty in his gaze.

She looked at him, and he looked at her. Her sodden dress clung to her small frame, while his new clothes glowed with the promise of something better.

She could do this. She could muster a smile for him, a few words to send him on his way. He is allowed to have a better life and better friends. In fact, she had wished so for him on several occasions in the past. But, in all her prayers, she had not realized that she maybe left behind. She had always pictured them getting adopted together. But of course that was not possible, the warden had said.

Arvind Singh Raizada was here only to adopt Arnav. So, she lifted her arms and gave him a quick hug. Just like he had hugged her so many times.

“Bye, Arnav,” she said, as she pulled back from the hug.

“No, come with me. You have to meet Arvind Uncle,” he insisted, and tried to reach for her hand.

But she shook her head, taking a step back. “I don’t want to! I am hungry… I am going to the mess for dinner. You have a safe journey. Take care,” she said, her voice steady though her heart faltered. Then she turned away from him and began to walk toward the mess hall.

He watched her go, his face falling as the distance grew between them.“I will come to see you next month, on Diwali. And I will write you letters,” he called after her, but she did not turn back.

She knew no one ever comes back to the orphanage once they find a family. Even at eleven years old, she knew that much.

“Khushi,” he shouted one last time, but she was already gone, disappearing into the shadows of the building.

Arnav stood there, staring at the place where she had been, the rain mingling with his own tears.

“I will miss you, Khushi,” he whispered in the empty space before turning toward the warden’s office, where a new future waited to claim him.

As he turned away, Khushi turned back, watching him leave with slow steps. It was a sight that she often dreamt of in the years to come.