She promises herself she wouldn't look back. She's been promising herself that for the last two hours.
People always said she had a big heart, an all-encompassing soul. She has never wished for it to be truer than she does at this minute. She hopes the repercussions of the last two days get absorbed within the confines of her being and don't reach out. She feels shaken to the core, and she wishes to contain it all within. Contain him within because outside, in her real world, there is no place for him. Not that he's asking for one either.
She would never be able to fully understand the whys and hows for the rest of her life. She'll stay up for nights to come, wake up from a restless sleep at 3am next to a man she was convinced she loved until he came along and curse him for not wanting to stay, for not demanding to be included in her life. But right now, as she sits on the steps of the bridge, she is grateful he's gone. Relieved he's left without making any demands, asking for promises, for time, commitment, acknowledgement.
She's desperate enough to convinced herself it doesn't really matter. That it wouldn't really count in the long run. That's it's still too fresh, too recent, too now. With time, wounds heal and memories blur - but what she doesn't realise, the lesson she'll learn soon, is that with time some events become the cornerstone of one's life and some memories shine so bright, the present seems pale in comparison. But she's too shaken to stop and analyse, to question and fight, too taken by the instant relief to realise the lifelong trauma she has just incurred.
Two days ago she had been pleased with her life. Admittedly, while there was nothing exceptional about it, she had been comfortable with it. She had grown up in an affluent family, had a close knit circle of friends with whom she had gone to school, college, tours and vacations. On graduating, her father had helped her turn her passion into a career and she's spent the next three years working with a leading fashion magazine.
Then she'd met her father's business associate's son, Abhinav Roy, one of the most eligible bachelors in town and one of the youngest district managers in the MNC he worked in. Handsome, a hotshot and romantic, her friends had teased her mercilessly when he'd proposed to her after a whirlwind romance of two months. They had been married in six. After a weeklong honeymoon in Cape Town, life had been a series of business parties, social dinners and quiet movie nights. And she'd been satisfied. And then everything changed.
Destiny has a strange way about her. Sometimes, she showers blessings without saying a word and sometimes, she rips it all away without lifting a finger.
--
Sharon Abhinav Roy should have seen the signs. It wasn't everyday that lightening struck in the middle of the bright and sunny month of March. Or like her driver to take the day off without notice. But she had been deadlines to meet and promises to keep. Arusha had booked a weekend of pampering at one of the most exclusive Resort & Spa in the country for all the bridesmaids. And there was no way she wasn't going to make it on account of some surprise rain and a missing man.
It was a six hour drive to the resort by road and as she backed her car out of the garage, she left a quick message on Abhi's voicemail letting him know about the change of plans. He had a regional meeting today but she couldn't wait until he was free. Besides he knew how important this was for her anyway. She opened the sun roof, put on some music and adjusting her glasses prepared for the long drive ahead.
--
She came to a halt with a screech. There were tires burning in the middle of the road. She looked around at the dense forest on both sides. This seemed to be the right road but this was unexpected. She must've taken a wrong turn. That was the only logical explanation.
She was backing out when something came crashing at the car through the woods. She slammed the breaks even as she let out a scream. Her heart pounding in her chest, she looked up to see a young man holding on to the hood of the car. All she could make out were his startled eyes staring at her through strands of hair.
Every instinct in her screamed at her to zoom away but she found herself immobile. They stared at each other. It must have been merely a few seconds. It felt like eons. Then he straightened up, fixed his jacket and casually walked up to the passenger door, opened it and sat down.
Drive', he said. The city is burning. There's been a lockdown.'
Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel as she continued to look at the spot he had appeared from.
Drive!' he yelled and and as if broken out of her trance, she did.
--
Her voice is the first thing to go.
They have been driving in silence for three hours now with the static from the radio the only sound reverberating around. From whatever little she had managed to gather before the signal gave out, the rural Naxal tribes had gunned down a government official and riots had broken out. She wonders if he's one of them. Which side he belong to. Who he was and what he was doing in her car. Where he came from. But finds all her questions meaningless as the silence stretches on.
The first time she touches him, she sees her first mauled body.
It is near the third road block. She had been backing up when he had sat up straighter and told her curtly to not look around and just zoom out. So of course she had stopped and turned her head to look at him. He was bending forward now and she couldn't see past him. So she reached out and pushed him aside and immediately reached out blindly for her door handle. When she bends down and heaves, he is there soothing her back. It was the first time he physically touched her.
By the time they reach the fifth road block, the conditions have worsened. They're heading towards the city she realises, as she follows his directions. He's in a hurry, like he knows. As if he can tell what is going to happen next. Like he wants to outrun it somehow.
They spot people this time, and cars. Tarnished, ashen cars and people with torches. They see them first and back away. But they're not quick enough and before she knows it, his hands are on the steering wheel and they are zooming towards them.
It is not until they are past the barricades and walking out of the car, heading deeper into the forest that she realises the nightmare is far from over.
--
He holds her hand as he makes his way through the woods. Logically, rationally, she knows she should be screaming right now, panicking, freaking out but she isn't. She's walking along behind him placidly.
When they reach an abandoned cottage, he shows her to a room and closes the door. Once alone, she finally lets the tremors take over her body. It is only when he rushes in and cocoons her body with his that she notices she had started to cry. The sobs that wreck her body get louder then and later as she lays in bed staring at the ceiling, she wonders how long she had been holding them in.
--
The next day, she wakes up feeling different. As they make their way out, she fills her camera with moments. Too bewildered to understand but wanting to preserve what she could. Even though they have been hungry for a day, she's never felt more alive. She'd always heard that it takes a brush with death to appreciate life.
--
It is only when they're sitting in the police patrol car and heading towards the city that she first hears him utter his name. Romeo' he says, as she catches his eye. Automatically she knows it's a lie.
--
He never says goodbye. Just picks up her camera, removes the roll, opens it (ruins it) and places it in her hand.
Swayam' he says. An apology, an identity, an explanation, a confession. Then with a smile and a tilt of his head, he puts his hands in his pockets and walks away.
--
She finally gives into the urge and watches him until he disappears through blurry eyes. Then she reaches for her phone and redials her husband's number.
--
She sees him again three days later during a news update about the missing Naxal leader, Swayam Shekhawat.
--
Thanks for reading. Do drop me a line to let me know what you thought of it.
Arjun
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