|DMG FF|Scared of DarknessP4pg18 RIDRAHUL Marriage - Page 5

wow yaar wat a scary intro

PART 1

She shifted the suitcase from hand to hand, finally putting it down at her feet. She reluctantly knocked the door. She wasn't comfortable. She wasn't prepared for the moment of confrontation. She glanced back at the taxi in which she had come. She hadn't paid the taxi driver, as if keeping a route open for retreat. She carefully watched everything inside which has not changed much from the time when she had left this place. She could spot the same tulsi plant which has dried now. Of course it had served its purpose, she died before her husband. That was all that women pray to the tulsi. The tulsi was the only green spot there but that too had dried now. For a moment she saw her mother Padma standing there with her eyes closed, hands folded and lips moving. The memory was as violent as an assault and she angrily rejected it. Then she noticed the beautiful flowers in one corner and wondered who could have planted them.

She turned around to knock again. She knocked hard and loud this time. She could hear the sound of approaching feet. The door opened. They both stared at each other. She smiled slightly to see the look of inquiry turn into a blank looking at a stranger one. It was, she supposed, the unexpectedness of her presence. She felt a faint triumph as if she had scored something.

'PAPA' she said.

His Adam's apple moved. His eyes moved from her to her suitcase at her feet, and then beyond her to the taxi standing outside the house. And now back to her, with an awareness of her identity in them. As if it was only by relating her to these other things that he could recognize her.

'Papa, Can I come in?' she asked reluctantly as if fearing he might say no.

He moved aside, composing his face into normality.

'I didn't expect you.'

'I know. How could you? I didn't tell you. I hope there isn't any problem.'

'No, no problem.'

She noticed he had changed. Not only has he grown older but he has become another man altogether.

'Why didn't you tell me of your coming before?'

'I made my mind just two days back, so I couldn't inform you before.' She kept her suitcase down.

'I must pay the taxi driver.' She went downstairs and paid the taxi driver.

By the time she had came back to the house, he had adjusted himself to her presence. Inside the house the silence was palpable, throbbing and heavy. She felt herself enclosed, with an astonishing immediacy, in the old atmosphere of brooding stillness. As if something would happen, though not now but in the future.

Nothing had changed even from inside. The house is still the same with a huge portrait of her grandparents, whom she had never seen, hanging in the living room. Though there were certain changes like her father, Shashank Gupta, had started smoking. The tea cups are stained with dregs of tea, as if revolting against the earlier pattern of living where leaving a cup unwashed meant a crime.

'You came by the morning flight, I suppose?'

How comforting to talk about flights…………………

'Was it on time?'

…….and whether they are on time. He hasn't asked me about my well-being even once. Forget about that, he hasn't even smiled at me yet. But then when have we ever smiled at each other or asked each other about their well-beings?

'I don't know. What time does it arrive?'

'Ten-fifteen.'

'Yes it was on time. Maybe a few minutes late.'

A few minutes late. Does it matter?

Meeting after five years and yet feeling the same old familiar irritation and exasperation.

'I'll have a wash.' She announced and went upstairs to her room. For a brief moment, she had a bewildering sensation of never having gone away. She realized that the room was still as it is it was. Nothing had changed. Or rather nobody entered that room after she left. She entered the bathroom to have a wash. After having a bath she went out to find him still sitting there staring at her suitcase.

'Will you have some tea?'

'I'd like to have. Shall I make it?'

'Don't bother; I'll get it for you in a minute.'

She sat down on the sofa, feeling all at once weary. Why had it seemed so important to come here, and, at once? Why had that sense of urgency left her now? Was it because of him and the way he had looked at her? Or rather, avoided looking at her? She was lost in her own thoughts when she heard the tinkling of the cup and saucer which told her that he was back.

'Where's your cup Papa?'

'I just had mine.'

He pointed towards his cup. He sat down opposite her in his favorite easy chair. While she drank her tea, he sat on his easy chair, like an unwilling host entertaining an unwanted guest. And that, I suppose, what I really am. What gave me the idea to come back all of a sudden? Why did I feel that my presence would be welcomed?

While she was engrossed in her own thoughts, Shashank thought of something. He could judge that there was something wrong. He fumbled in his mind to say something.

'I heard about Ma.' She said abruptly.

'Oh!'

Why had he not bothered to tell that to her.

'Who told you?'

'A patient.'

She felt reluctant to reveal the identity of that person. He too felt no curiosity, either, to know who it was. His curiosity was centered round her presence.

'Oh!'

And unknowingly he gave her a small smile. The first smile she had from him. He didn't know what to say next.

'Papa, does it trouble you to have me here? Tell me if it does, I can go to a hotel.'

He pulled out a cigarette from the case and with an unexpectedly elegant gesture he lit one and put it in his mouth. Now he seemed to be more comfortable. Was that why he had been so restless because he needed to smoke? Had it nothing to do with her presence at all?

'When I heard of Ma's death' she went on, her voice harder and louder, 'I thought I'd like to see you once. But if there's any problem about my staying here……'

'No, no nothing like that. But I didn't know…I mean, I never imagined…' His words trailed away. Suddenly she realized that it was his loyalty towards the dead woman. He could not welcome her because that would mean treachery to the dead. Yet when he spoke next, his voice was stronger.

'What Hotel? You are going nowhere. You are staying here only…' and his eyes went towards her room.

'I'm afraid things aren't very clean and comfortable. You may find it difficult.'

'It's okay Papa, I will manage.'

Suddenly she noticed that there was not a single photograph of hers in the whole house. How successfully had she managed to efface her personality from the house? She thought that how powerful, how strong her mother had been to achieve that.

She then went to her mother's room. She saw everything was as it was when her mother was alive. Suddenly she realized that there were some male clothes hanging on the wall. There was a suitcase kept near the almirah. She wondered whose it was.

'That's Atul's room.' He called out from the hall as if he had divined her surprise.

'Who's Atul?'

'A student. Studying medicines. He is in first year. He's been with us for two years now.'

She got out feeling oddly disturbed, as if the consciousness of her desertion had only just come to her.

'Why don't you lie down for a while?' he asked her.

He gave her a pillow and a sheet. It made her feel uneasy to have him attend on her. He had always been so much a man, "the master of the house", not to be bothered by any of the trivial of the daily routine. And yet he seems to be so comfortable in doing those things.

She lay down and closed her eyes.

'Who looks after you Papa?' she asked with her eyes closed.

'Nobody. Atul and I manage were well.'

She smiled. Atul. How easily he said his name. So unknown to her. And he had not said her name as yet.

'You know I have one child?'

It was easier to talk this way, without looking at him, without having him evade her eyes.

'I know.'

'Who told you?' she asked in her turn.

'Oh, somebody. I don't remember now.'

'You have a boy right?'

A boy. Don't you even want to know their names? She was angered by his indifference that made her seem a remote acquaintance but then she checked herself. What had she expected? What right had she to expect anything?

'Yes, one boy.'

A family the right size. The right kind like the ads.

Healthy, happy, smiling and in color. But Abhi and his pains….

My tummy is paining me, mummy. Too much.

Now Abhi, remember, mummy is a doctor.

You shouldn't try to fool her

Just because you don't want to go to school.

No, mummy, it's really paining me, terribly. I swear it is.

A happy family with the skeleton locked firmly in the cupboard.

'His name is Abhishek.' She said loudly, as if he had asked her for their names, as if she was speaking to a deaf man.

'He is four.'

Suddenly she saw some flames outside and at once thought of her dead mother's pyre. Who had lit it? She had no son to do that for her. Karan, her brother died when he was seven. She never said his name after that. Except that once……after marriage when I woke up sobbing at night and called out….Karan.

'Riddhima.' That was all that I heard with a hand rubbing my back trying to comfort me. And then I drifted of to sleep once again.

Suddenly she came back from her thoughts and remembered her mother. Remembering how it had been when the man had told her, badly, crudely…..'Do you know your mother is dead?'

okk guys that was part 1 of my ff. Hope you guys liked it. Do leave your comments.

and if i bored you guys then do lemme know?😉

i hav send Pm to all those in my list but if have forgotten anybody then m sorry 4 tht....now me going

hey...i saw ur pm and read the tewo parts together...they were great but i wanted to take off my sandal and beat the sh*t out of Rahul with it...how dare he...the nerve of that jerk...where is ammy and did padma hate ridzy?....soo many questions...lol...cont soon and can u add me to ur pm list?....nida<3

yeah nice part

hey dolly,

heyy dear,
nice update.
but i am confuce.
riddhima is married or not.
the son abhi is Riddhima son.
riddhima mom is dead or what.
riddhima is remebering her past or what plzz tell me.