NEW! Arjun/Riya (Ariya) FF: Strings of Desire- Note p34 URGENT - Page 15

Interlude#2: The Sea

It is strange that the wilder the sea appears to be, the calmer I feel when I sit in front of it. The sea roars, rages and wages wars within itself and I sit on my spot in the beach, feeling the salt rub against my scalp. We are two strangers sitting across each other, each unconcerned with the other but enjoying the companionship all the same. It is a relationship that gives nothing and expects nothing. I find that I am in love with it.

My thoughts wander around and hit upon Riya. A rush of warmth suffuses my heart and a smile breaks out on my face. I wish I could have her next to me at this moment. My sister had a relationship with the sea that was different from mine. While I preferred to observe from a distance, she would rush in headfirst into the torpid waves and only emerge after her tongue was lined with salt.

I remember the first time she saw the sea. Baba and I had been to the sea already a couple of times, but my sister is more strong-headed and stubborn than most, and he used to be afraid the first time she'd see the sea, she'd rush in head first and the sea would swallow her whole. She was ten when baba finally relented and let her come to the beach with us. The tide had been completely high that day, and dark clouds had gathered. I remember the smell of the earth, and Riya beside me - shivering in anticipation of finally, finally getting to visit the sea. I will never forget the sheer look of awe she had in her face as she witnessed nature's greatest masterpiece sway, wail, shriek and dance to its own tune. In that moment, all forms of sibling rivalry went away - there was just our mutual love for the sea.

As we grew older, the fighting started and the sea became my home. My father and my sister were both proud, headstrong people who refused to see each other's perspective and sometimes I just wanted to walk away. In those moments, I wasn't a concerned sister or a dutiful daughter. I was just me. Those days, there was an unspoken understanding between us - that once the fighting was done, Riya would drive out 4 hours and sit next to me. Words would hardly be exchanged. I would not apologize for leaving her to face our father alone. She would not apologize for driving me away. In front of the sea, we were just two people trying to drown our anger within ourselves. After the sun would set, we would dust the sand from our bodies and make our way home. As the house seemed closer and closer, everything I had left behind would come back on again, like a mask I had left behind. We would spot our father pacing in front of the house and I would call out to him. He would look up, and wait for me to come up to him before wrapping me in his arms. "I was afraid" he would murmur, and I would say "You don't have to be". Riya would watch us embrace and walk inside the house. My father would call out to her to join our embrace, but she would smile a smile that won't reach her eyes, and would talk about how desperately she needed to take a bath to get the sand off her body. My father, a proud man, would not call after her again.

Adulthood came in, and the sea became an escape from my guilt. My husband and I were being unfaithful to each other. Each knew about the other, and we didn't talk about it. It was not my lack of morality and dignity that bothered me so much as the thought that people would find out. The sea was the only place I could be. The sea was vast, cold and unfeeling. It did not care about me. I knew if I were to walk into it at the same time as a pope, both of us would drown - that the sea didn't care for either sinners or saints gave me immense comfort.

My father heavily disapproved of the life Riya had chosen for herself. He had been too proud to say he was afraid for her life, and Riya had been too angry to see that it was not a slight on her abilities. It was the worst fight they had had in ages - it ended with the door being flung open and my sister walking out - luggage in hand. "I wish I was someone you could be proud of" she said to him, once past the gates. "But I am not that person, and I refuse to give you any more grief than necessary". My sister walked away with her head held high. My father, a proud man, watched her leave. In her absence, the sea became the noise in the background as I called her and she called me. She would sit in near her sea and I would sit near mine and we would talk the night away. She would call every day I wouldn't until one day, she didn't. An ACP Arjun Suryakant Rawte did - only to tell us our mishti had nearly died for her country. My father had wept openly that day. It is a sight I never want to see again. In that moment, I knew I would do anything to protect my sister from - even if it meant giving my own life in her place.

So, when they walked into my house six months later to offer me a choice between my sister and myself, I asked if I could go to the sea before they would execute me. Here on this beach, I gently press the letter into the sand, in a place I knew Riya would find it - when I am sure they are not looking. My murderers are extraordinarily kind, seeming to understand my need to say goodbye to the one thing in my life that had never changed. It feels strange to use their kindness against them.

The final task done, I stand up and walk towards him with my head held high. I had treated life with indignity. I did not want my death to lead the same way. He is stoic as I sit in the car, refusing to let my tears fall. When I enter my home, I see my husband sprawled out on the floor and stop short. The body is brutally slashed at, and blood seeps out of every cut and orifice. "Do you want to walk away?" the other one asks, softly - the cruelty evident on the face. My initial shock fades away, and I find that I am apathetic to the sight of my husband dead. I shrug indifferently, and walk up to the bathroom. They follow me, the other one humming a ghazal. The stoic one fills the bathtub with water. He sits me down in the bath and he tells me that this will absolve my sins. Right before he pushes my head under the water to kill me, I tell him I don't believe him.