Chapter 12

Chapter 12

He had expected shock, disbelief, or even fury to be on her expressive face but what he saw there instead left him reeling. She wore a look of resignation, of grim acceptance and that was when Arnav knew. His sister was not the gullible, unsuspecting woman he had believed her to be. She had known the truth, perhaps longer than he had. She had known all along and she had chosen to keep silent.

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Anjali looked away, unable to meet her brother's eyes, as he continued to stare at her in disbelief, shell-shocked. Arnav felt as though the ground underneath his feet had been pulled away. His sister, the woman he trusted beyond any other, had utterly betrayed him. He had always placed his Di above all else, given her the utmost importance and in return, she had ruined his faith beyond repair. If the pillar had been cracked before, it was broken now. There are some things in life which cannot be forgiven and if they can somehow be forgiven, they can never be forgotten. Anjali's deception was one of those things and Arnav knew he would always remember it, if he could ever bring himself to look into her eyes without an accusation in his own.

If Arnav had screamed, shouted, demanded an explanation, Anjali would have known what to do. But this lack of response, from her Chotte of all people, was beyond her ability to bear. But she knew she did not deserve his words, not after what she had done. And so she waited, in the silence she had grown accustomed to; she waited for Arnav to speak, but when he voiced the most important question of all, she was not prepared to answer.

"How long?"

He did not address her as Di. The woman before him was a stranger, not the beloved sister he had placed on an ivory pedestal long ago. He had consecrated that image of her on that fateful day, thirteen years ago, when she had collapsed on the mandap floor, the fragments of a shattered dream all that remained of her once beautiful life. Since then, she had always been his fragile, delicate flower, in need of his protection and he had blinded himself to everything else. He did not know what to expect anymore. He had never believed in a god, but he had believed in his Di. And now that belief was destroyed and there was nothing to hold on to.

Anjali did not answer the one question Arnav asked. She did not pretend ignorance, as she had done for so long. He was asking her how long she had known the truth and chosen to let innocence take the fall, rather than leave the comfort of the web she had spun. She knew exactly what her Chotte was asking her, but she could not bring herself to respond. To do so would have condemned her further, but her continuing silence was answer enough for Arnav. He realized now, that she had always known, from the very beginning. He swayed on his feet; the ability to remain standing had deserted him. Anjali immediately rushed towards him, but he cringed away from her touch. Anjali slowly withdrew her hand. This was a novel experience. Arnav had never been angry with her, let alone flinched away from her. She smiled, a self-deprecating smile devoid of any humor. It was true, what they said. The higher you are, the harder you fall. And she had been blessed with the highest honor of all. She had once been endowed with a place in her brother's frozen heart, and now she had lost that, her most prized possession.

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The five stages of grief are known to be denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. A normal person goes through these five stages in that order. But Arnav Singh Raizada could never be accused of being an ordinary man, but he was a man nonetheless. And so he too went through those stages of grief, but in the reverse order instead. When he had looked into Anjali's eyes and read the truth there, he had accepted it. And then he had retreated to a corner of the hospital room, so ideally suited for his state of depression. The sterile, white walls provided him with a clean, blank expanse on which he could write out one of those deals he so excelled at. He tried to bargain, to come up with a plausible explanation. Perhaps he had been mistaken; surely his Di was innocent. But this was a deal even he could not complete, so he gave into the fourth stage of grief: anger. And that was where the cycle ended, as nothing ever got beyond his trademark anger.

He looked at his sister, his eyes blazing and she was relieved. The fire in his eyes was an emotion she was familiar with; this she could understand. And so she waited for the flames to devour her. She welcomed them, almost eager for the burn. Perhaps that would ease the other fire that was searing through her on the inside. Arnav opened his mouth to speak, to deliver the blaze of words that would scald and scorch, but he was interrupted before he even began.

"Don't Nannav."

They had not been alone. The entire confrontation through which a mere two words had been exchanged had not gone unnoticed.

"Don't Nannav," NK repeated himself. He stepped forward, towards Arnav, while Payal went to Anjali, her arms going around the older woman in a futile attempt to comfort.

"I know what you are about to do Nannav," NK continued. "And I am not surprised. It is just like you to put aside your own guilt, your own crime, and point to the mistakes of others. I am not saying Di is innocent, far from it. You have been so blind Nannav. The one whom you deemed guilty beyond a doubt was the only innocent one while the rest of us can never hope to claim the same. Who among us is not guilty in this farce? But at least we have the grace to acknowledge it while you Nannav are still grasping at every opportunity to lay the blame at another's feet. I thought you had woken up, roused yourself from your self-induced sleep. But you are still wearing a blindfold. You and Di are separated by just one difference Nannav: she chooses to wear the blindfold in disgrace while you revel in hiding behind it and boast of seeing the world with unfettered eyes. And trust me when I say that you suffer the worse fate."

Before Arnav could even process the deluge of wisdom NK had imparted, Akash stepped out of the shadows from where he had been silently watching, as he had done for so long. It was time to step up now and Akash was never one to shirk from his responsibilities, so he spoke the truth they had all been forever denying.

"Bhai, you have a certain habit of saying your name quite often," Akash remarked thoughtfully, as though just noticing this trait of Arnav's. "You always say 'I am Arnav Singh Raizada' and that seems to serve as your justification for everything. I have never argued with that rationalization of yours, for I have always supported you, every time. But not in this Bhai. You are wrong and I will not let you use my name to validate yourself. You are not ASR, Bhai. I am. I am Akash Singh Raizada and you Bhai, you are Arnav Malik. Admit it Bhai. For once in your life, just own up to it. You are a Malik, Bhai, and you are no different from that man you despise so much. Aravind Malik chased his wife right up to death's door and you Bhai, you brought Khushiji to the brink of death. Both of you harmed the woman you vowed to protect. You besmirched the sacred bond that is marriage. And when you realized the crime you committed, you could not bear the guilt. Aravind Malik ended his own life rather than live and repent and you Bhai, you chose to deny the guilt and that to me is far greater a sin than anything Aravind Malik ever did. You may pride yourself on being the great ASR, but at heart, you are a Malik. You can deny it all you want, but there is no changing the truth Bhai: you are truly your father's son."

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