SS: In The Closet, part 7, page 20 - Page 6

Three

"Who are you to talk about my past?" she asked, clearly embarassed that he had brought up topic after 16 painful years spent trying to forget it. "And anyway, Aakash loves me for who I am, and not because of any stupid past connected to me."

"Maanyata, I'm not talking about that past," he smirked, "I'm talking about your other past. I'm talking about us."

For a moment she froze, before realizing that's exactly what he intended for her to do-become speechless, and thus pave the way for more taunts. Before he could launch into a "Tell me Maanyata" missive, she immediately said, "We never existed, Uday. It was always just you, in case you seemed to have forgotten that."

"Maanyata-" he began, but she raised her hand and silenced him. "Plus, Aakash knows about everything that had happened between us, and he's fine with it. In fact, you should be thanking him that he didn't just punch you in the face for what you did."

His jaw muscles tightened, and she let the glory of her triumph eclipse the heartache that had flared up inside her again.

"Maanyata, it's been three years," he said finally. "Surely you can't be carrying around a burden for so long?"

Maanyata opened her mouth to tell him that what she had carried around was not a burden, but the remnants of a broken relationship. They had not had some childish fight which could be patched up by some freak incident like Maanyata getting injured on her shoulder. He had injured her heart, and a woman's heart could abstain from forgiveness as easily as granting it to the wrong-doer. But then she realized that he was incapable of understanding. That perhaps he had somehow convinced himself that after three years they would meet, and all that had happened between them would magically vanish.

For the first time, Maanyata felt sorry for Udayveer. She felt sorry for him because he was unknowingly trapped by the bonds of the childhood friendship, and he was failing to see that they had grown up and that they didn't need or desire each other any longer. For the 17 years that they had known each other, Uday had been the one to think with his mind, and Maanyata had always chosen her heart. But now, things had reversed-and he was too frightened of the same to acknowledge it.

Three years ago

"Gemma, tell me, how do I look?" eighteen year old Maanyata asked gaily, prancing about in the designer gown that her Dadisa had specially had tailored for her in order for her to look her best at the London Debutante Ball.

"Amazing princess," Gemma said, flashing her that thousand-watt smile which never failed to chase away the butterflies in Maanyata's stomach. Gemma Jones was half-Irish, half-American, the possessor of fiery red hair and even more spicy tongue. While Maanyata was quiet, refined and prone to being nervous, Gemma was confident and outspoken. There had been a time when Maanyata had resented Gemma, even looked down upon her, for not being as blue-blooded as she was. But true friends were hard to find, especially for a princess belonging to a treasured lineage.

"I wish you could come with me to the ball," Maanyata said morosely. "Would be a lot of help."

"No way, I'm not interested in your high-society gatherings," Gemma said, carelessly flipping open her laptop. "And anyway, it's not like you don't know anyone over there. That friend of yours, Udayveer, he's escorting you right?"

Maanyata nodded her head, her cheeks automatically flushing at the mention of his name. Uday. She'd always known that he too, studied in London like her, but ever since she'd left India, she'd never really got an opportunity to hang out with him the way they had when they were children. Occasionally, when she went to India, she would see him lounging around her palace, but he was busy serving as an apprentice in one of his father's hotels, and he had no time to entertain his childhood best friend anymore.

"Do you know how he looks?" Gemma asked curiously.

"Sorry?" Maanyata asked, her flow of thoughts interrupted.

Gemma laughed. "Already lost in thoughts of Prince Charming, aren't you? My, he must be a stunner then."

"Rubbish," Maanyata said, though she blushed even harder at the mention of 'Prince Charming.' "The last time I saw him was two years ago, during my summer vacations. I've not got more than a glimpse of him since then."

"Interesting," Gemma hummed, "But Maanyata dearie, if you ever looked up from your books, you would realize there is a thing called 'Google'. Apparently your Yuuvraaj is making quite a few waves on gossip sites."

"You know I never check all that crap out," Maanyata said, making a face. "And besides, he's coming to pick me up right now, so I'll get to see how he looks, okay? Now go back to your Perez Hilton."

Gemma smirked as she went back to her e-mailing, and Maanyata nearly lost her breath, for the smirk was frighteningly similar to that of Uday's. She wondered whether her choice in best friends indicated some kind of pattern: popular, confident and arrogant. Then she shook her head. A lot could happen in two years. Perhaps Uday had changed. Perhaps he wasn't the same brash prince who loved irritating her anymore.

A car honked impatiently outside her dormitory. She had just moved into her hostel along with Gemma, and she knew that the prudish warden would have a fit if she had any 'gentleman callers' outside her place for too long. She instantly flew downstairs, muttering a garbled 'Goodbye' to Gemma's 'Take care'. Without even waiting for Udayveer to get out and open the door for her, she crawled into the backseat of his Audi and hurriedly motioned to the driver to speed away.

"My god, princess. I thought your manners would have improved in England," a deep baritone voice echoed from behind her. She turned around, ready to make a hasty apology, and then gulped.

So she had been wrong. Yes, he'd changed, but he was still frustratingly the same. The same taunting smile, which highlighted the sharp features of his aristocratic face, along with the same spiky hair that refused to be gelled into neatness, but instead assumed a style of its own. The only difference that gave away the fact that he wasn't the same sixteen year old 'Hey princess' UV she'd met two years back was his eyes. They were darker now, having been surprisingly more amber back in the Indian summer, and had specks of gray in them if one happened to look closer. But it wasn't just the pigmentation-it was the look. They were more serious now, and the humor inside them appeared to be twisted too.

Her breath was still there in her throat, and her heart was still functioning normally. There was no clamminess in her palm, no butterflies in her stomach. Instead, she felt astonishingly empty. As if till then, she had not done anything worthwhile, like she was an uneducated fool with absolutely no knowledge or beauty inside her. She could feel a mind-numbing lust rushing through her veins, and it took her all her self-control not to kiss him, though it seemed like the most natural thing she could do right then.

But a more rational part of her had already gathered itself up in her vocal chords, and she instantly snapped back, "Well, Dadisa had always told me that continuously honking is a sign of mental disturbance, not to mention that it causes noise pollution."

"I know your Dadisa better than you do Maanyata," he said, his eyes twinkling. "And somehow I feel this philosophy is more yours than hers."

"Feel whatever you want," she said irritably. She expected him to retort back, just the way he would have if he had been ten years younger. Instead, he kept quiet and only snaked his arm around her shoulders. Surprisingly, she didn't push him away, nor did she ask him to keep his distance. She only sank back into her seat as his arms pushed further downwards onto her back.

She realized that he was not getting, as Gemma would have put it, 'cozy'; he was only rubbing her back to calm her down, like Komal would have had she been there. She closed her eyes, allowing him whisper into her ear, "I know you're nervous, but don't worry. You're the princess of Devgarh. They wouldn't dare say anything out of the way to you."

"But there will be other princesses Uday," she said softly. "Princesses of entire countries. What can I possibly say to them?"

"You're my princess, Maanyata," he said fiercely, "and that's what matters the most."

It had been the first time since the "incident" that she had allowed a man to get close to her, to touch her in that protective way in which Uday was holding her right then. And just like the craving she'd felt on seeing his face again after a long time, the feeling of security she felt when he comforted her clouded all the other emotions in her mind.

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You're still only my princess, Maanyata; his eyes were challenging her right then. She silently walked away to her bedroom in the palace, breathing a sigh of relief when she heard his car speed away in the background.

Maanyata didn't sleep, but waited for Aakash to come back instead. She'd said three, it was twelve-thirty now, still two and half-hours ago, but she wished that he could materialize right that second.

That had exactly been the feeling in her mind when she'd first met Aakash-she'd wanted someone who would vaporize into her life like a genie from a lamp, take away all her stupid doubts and insecurities about herself away from her and tell her those four magic words: "I love you Maanyata."

Except now, some annoying part of her was in rebellion. It was telling her: What is better: To hear an 'I love you', or to feel it? With Uday, it had been more of an unspoken emotion, something that she could judge from the way he would feed her icecream, the way he would pull her close to himself when he was teaching her how to shoot, the way he would smile at her whenever she did anything crazy. These were small actions that no one else could accurately interpret or derive any true meaning from except her.

And with Aakash, it was just so out in the open. No hesitation, no pretending to be innocent. He kissed her, made declarations of love to her, and proposed marriage to her. It was transparent and honest, with all the terms and conditions of their relationship known to both of them. She knew that he wasn't interested in her money; he knew that he wasn't just a 'boytoy' for her. In such a marriage, she would never have to worry about being betrayed or taken for granted. It was just so safe.

You're not marrying Maanyata, the spiteful part of herself told her. You're just protecting yourself from any more heartbreak. It's as clear as that.

She sighed and got out of bed, stumbling over to her old study table, which now belonged to J. Switching on the lamp, she cleared through her sister's stash of cigarette packets and crumpled love-letters from various admirers, and got out the diary which she had brought from England. It was the first thing she'd asked Anjali to remove after unpacking her luggage. It was Gemma's parting gift to her, and as she flipped through it, she got a quick flashback of all the crap they'd done.

Forcing her mind back to what she'd originally planned to do, she ripped out a page from the diary and began writing in a neat, small cursive handwriting.

Dear Aakash,

Before we go ahead and marry each other, there's something I need to tell you. Sounds positively Hollywood-ish, but I've really no other choice. I'm too scared to say it on the face. Actually, Uday had told me not to be scared-

She growled in irritation and immediately canceled out the 'Uday'. Concentrate on the letter, she urged herself.

Actually, I know I'm not supposed to be scared. That what I've gone through is nothing compared to what a few other girls have gone through. But the thing is that my family has always been kind of aloof from me because of all the negative publicity we'd received from it, which is why I've always stayed away from them.

She bit her lip. Did she sound too whiny? Perhaps she was being too melodramatic. And anyway, Uday had made it clear that he was talking about their relationship, and not about anything else. Even then. There was no trusting Vijay or J. What if they happened to tell him? No, she had to do it herself.

So here it goes. When I was five, I was kidnapped while coming home from school. Our family had hired a new driver, and he was in a bit of money trouble. So he and his friend got together and took me to this godown

Urgh, I sound like a journalist, she thought. She crumpled up the paper and threw it into the wastebasket. She couldn't possibly tell him through a note. She needed to talk it out and explain it to him.

She looked at the clock. It was one now. She couldn't possibly expect him to return so soon, for he was as much of a party animal as J was. She decided it was best to talk in the morning. Plus, J would be too inebriated to bring up the subject of her elder sister's past right then.

"What exactly is 'a past'?" Gemma used to ask, every time Maanyata uttered that word. Indeed, she herself was getting tired of it. Why what was had happened to her when she was five so important that it seemed to follow her like a curse wherever she went?

The only person Maanyata had never felt compelled to behave mysterious about her past with had been Udayveer. She'd always talked about it freely in front of him, and most of the time, discussing it with him had made it seem like a kind of joke, a soap opera-ish saga that could have happened to anyone. "You were just unlucky Maanyata," Uday had always assured her. She wished she could just dial his number and listen to him say it again, but then she doubted he would be interested in sorting out her communication problems with her boyfriend.

I guess that's why you're so obsessed with him, she thought morosely. He was the only person for whom it was no big deal.

Preview: "Uday please," she pleaded. "He was drunk last night; he probably didn't know what he was doing."

Uday put his fingers on his lips and said, "Sshh." Then as calmly and innocently as a two-year old baby with no sense of its actions, he picked up the mug of steaming coffee and tilted it over Aakash's head.

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