FF: New York times with Maan&Geet Thread 4 09/13 - Page 6

They climbed higher and higher on the winding road, with a hairpin bend here and there. Every time they would approach a sharp curve, Naini would turn and look at her bhabhi who was still leaning on Daadi's shoulder. Oh! Lord, they must have stayed on flat land, she mentally yelled and cursed herself. She knew this trip was more for herself than for Geet. And yet she couldn't ask him to turn back which made her skin hot with anger and nostrils flare, more so due to the fact that at this time and age, she was letting her self-centeredness take the better of her.

Once at the front door, she found the landscape as it were some 9 years ago. It was a damp mossy green everywhere. The Amazonian feel of the dripping trees, shrubs, creepers and climbers intact. Ribbons of light sneaking in from small openings and secret cleanings made the locale easily resemble a sultry nook of a humid, exotic tropical forest.

One could feel they had jumped through a vortex to land in another world that indeed seemed far from the maddening crowd. How else could she explain how she had arrived here if she had somehow still held onto the ropes of sanity? The crummy, perishing tree house perched atop of the giant redwood, appeared tethered, only waiting to fall apart with her return. It was a frayed wooden staircase that led up to the tree house and nevertheless it was hopeful that someday she would climb up with a book and he would come by with a blanket in hand.

Geet and Daadima got out in awe of the first choice for their home (and honeymoon), at those young years. Geet could not help think, how one could leave behind remnants of an old world that dripped of nostalgia every square inch of its mile and move to any concrete jungle; Toronoto to be precise. She wanted to find out the answer the very same instant, but her fettle caught her mind's attention. Her throbbing headache and gurgling stomach echoed in her ears. A burning insipid taste rose up her tongue from the rising puke. Hai Babaji! What was going on with her? She was now genuinely worried for herself.

Clutching her stomach, as if the act could pacify her volcano of a stomach, puling with purge activity, she ran indoors, even as she did not know her left from right in the inside of the house. It was too late for the others to react, but Daadima followed confused. The elder felt that perhaps her bahu was overdoing the act, more than what was needed.

And it was time to push the panic button of the one soul that was some three thousand miles away and quite ignorant of the unraveling of some chance, and other not-so chance events at the island. So Rishabh called Maan the next passing second.

At first the call from Rishabh was not unexpected, as he knew his theatre trained Daadima and her ardent pupil would not plan a trip to Catalina for nothing. Although when he was told of Geet's state, he didn't know if he was to panic or blush for he was well acquainted what condition of the lady the symptoms would add up to. He had sat down the same moment he had heard Rishabh inform him of her prodromes as his mind recorded and played back the same words as if it was needed, for he had turned obtuse from the joy and doubt. Without question, no one on this planet could have stopped him from taking that next flight to Los Angeles, even as he was aware of the one fact, that no one else in his family knew at that time. Of course it had taken him a few seconds after the call to recollect their intimate conversation between husband and wife from four days ago.

As Daadima entered the washroom along with Geet and Naini waited outside, Rishabh left for his room after a long penchant gaze at her. He came back in a few minutes with a tower of neatly folded towels and placed it by the chiffonier, which was stacked slack by the right angled corner that showed itself into the bathroom. They would need it, for all were wet from the time they had run amuck from the shelter to the car. Thoughtfully he called out to the driver and instructed him to get their baggage from the LA hotel they had originally planned to return that evening, or NOT.

A good half hour later, Geet emerged out the bathroom with bloody eyes and weak form. The bitter taste remained in her mouth and she wanted to collapse on the floor once again as her frail legs buckled underneath her. Instead she followed Naini to a bedroom up to the first floor and without another thought fell on the bed. To ask if anyone had called her husband was the last thing on her mind. After a big glass of water, soup and a painkiller, she cozied up under the covers. Truly, she was paying for crying wolf.

Only after Geet had snoozed, she came downstairs, leaving behind Daadima with her bhabhi. She walked to the kitchen and greeted their one and only help at home, Maria. A kind woman from a long lineage of Brazilian ancestry hugged her with warm tears. The fuzzy feelings came back once again, for she saw Maria's expectant face fill with a thousand questions and motherly sentiments. Good for her, Maria did not speak much English and she had never bothered to learn Spanish to assuage her of her worries. Even if she could speak her tongue, what was she to tell her? That they would soon see each other take separate paths in life for they no longer saw eye to eye...

Having done with the only meet and greet she had to finish after arriving at their home (or NOT), her feet with a will of its own made its way to her bedroom, rather his bedroom now. Not a care, she had as she darted in and opened their closet. She had seen him go outside in casuals right after he had seen to Geet's arrangements and so she was intrepid getting around their room. Carelessly, she pulled out her once-upon-a-time home attire and went for a shower.

While she stood aimless before the mirror, running a comb down her damp air, she wondered what she was doing in her husband's clothes. The devil must have duly got to her en route for she was in a very white draw string muslin pants and shirt. From the lack of her dry inner garments, she had skipped them altogether and had taken a long shawl to drape around her carefully. And now she had to leave the room for the mirror no longer reflected her still image, but instead opted to play back a time and memory that appeared distant...so distant that she didn't know if it was only a figment of her imagination. She wanted to get the closet door before she would go downstairs and when she did, a sandal yellow something tucked in the corner of his folded shirts caught her eye. With a trembling hand -for she was sure she knew what it was- she yanked the tail piece of the cloth that was scheming to jut out. Oh! God, she cried and fell to the floor. Wrecking sobs escaped her as her body convulsed in a profuse pain. In that outburst of emoions, she shoved the piece of article into the same cranny and ran for the life of her. How on earth was she going to get out of this?

Tears still streaking her cheeks, she strolled into the wide family room and stood leaning by the French doors that opened out to the backyard; the tireless tree house steps waiting to her side by a few feet. As she stared out into the darkest lush green that covered all of the rear of the house, she did the unthinkable, leaving anyone question the rationale behind that shower she had just taken. It was also the one thing she had hesitated to do, but sure was confident she would not be able to escape the fate of resisting it, ever since she had come inside the fence of their home. She pranced out in the rain again and headed to the barn, hiking down a slope. The artificial brook by the side of the giant willow rippled the still water that had banked within the stone-wall; the perturbed water mirroring the insides of her.

Right after she entered the dull-lit place that had infinite number of jute bags strewn around, she felt the murmur grow into a gentle coo and then a whiney following a loud snort fill the room. More tears came down now along with a faltering smile. There he was, her Cricket...with his black satin coat, long pin straight hair on his mane and large dark set eyes covered by ladylike lashes. He was no longer the colt he had gifted her the first day she had landed there, but a proud steed that had instantly recognized his mistress.

"My baby..." she whispered as she moved in the direction of the horse. The priced animal, in all faithfulness, neighed thunder and raised its front legs in a short gallop about the same spot and moved back and forth rocking in joy. Just as she was about to open the stable door, he ushered himself in, carrying a mound of straw, bare chested, jeans folded to his knees. Both were soaking wet from the pouring rain. This too added to her agony and so she once again turned back and left without so much as a pat to the anxious animal.

It was as expected, but he was still caught off-guard, when she showed up in his clothes. He was confident; their agony was slowly making them skip the reality around them, for how else could he explain her showing up like that.

But she couldn't get too far with the overwhelming sensation of misery knocking her guts out. She sat down in the battered swing that hung low from the willow branches. Another wave of sadness hit her as she closed her eyes.

She must be demented to come to the same place that was made up of sore spots of her life that haunted her too very often. As the rain continued to drizzle, her mind drifted back to another time. And in that faraway memory she was awkwardly and menacingly wrapped in the same sandal yellow sari that had drove her out of her own room in mere seconds.

At 18 she hardly knew to pin-up her dupatta right, when he had gotten her that sari for their honeymoon. Placing it by the bed along with a note, he had gone to get lunch while she had still been in the shower. She was overjoyed at first. And the note being a terse one "Love you baby..." did not come with instructions for the task at hand making the initial sentiments tumble downhill. With twirls and shrugs she had somehow got the major part of the sari stand up on her body, but the tail end did revolt to stay up her strappy blouse. But the struggle didn't last long, for he was back soon and had stood by the entryway adoring his young bride. She wanted to run and hide within him from the shyness and embarrassing amount of skin she was showing, but she had clad it tight without room for leg movement, that she had almost tripped, only to land in his arms. She could still remember his roaring guffaw at her naivety and lack of suaveness to handle women's clothing. His laughter pierced her now momentarily as the remembrance dawned on her. Of course she had taken offense to his mocking and had moved away then, clutching her falling sari. But he had made up with plenty kisses for the harmless teasing. When she did come to that part of her memory playback, she quickly opened her eyes to want not to dwell and reminisce in that moment. Another course of tears streamed down, mingling with the rain that jetted.

She sat there in absolute stillness, with her back resting against one of thick ropes; her foot glided atop the pool of water that had collected below, with the ground having caved in slightly.

"You seem to have forgotten your manners...And conveniently ignoring some too" he said, making an appearance in the rain.

She looked up slowly without any element of surprise. He gestured his head towards the stables; his face pale and emotionless, but a mute anger showed up in his eyes, when she didn't move.

"Cricket always needed you more tha(n me)..." His words trailed as he caught his slip.

"I meant at least don't be your stubborn ass self with Cricket" His words now drowned her in insane rage as his eyes wandered off elsewhere to keep himself from looking at his broken wife. Clearly everything...just about everything was affecting her.

"I came here for Geet and I'm not renewing relationships with anyone" She quoted him just as he had done before leaving the SF home. Oh! Yes, she knew exactly what riled him up, that much he gave her credit for. For some strange reason, when she was avoiding Cricket, he felt a great need to speak for the voiceless animal. He hauled her forcefully out of the swing by her elbow and drew her close. She was inches away from his face, as he gritted his teeth and bit out every word with heartfelt contempt at her rigidity.

"Stop lying to yourself first. You came here for you and only you...All I'm asking is for you to go be with him...You can try all you want but old habits die hard" He paused as he intently studied her sulking face, her arm continued to fight his deathly hold "And look at what you have made of yourself" He said and released hand down in disgust. She fell back into the swing as it slightly moved back and forth and twisted about the same position. Steadying herself to confront him seated, she spoke with a striving tone that worked up to some level of firmness

"I'm good Rishabh...you needn't worry. I'm what I was 11 years ago and I don't need new or old habits to define me..." She said looking down.

He closed his eyes and let his head fall back for he wanted the rain to wash down any amount of concern he had for her that moment, if that was even possible. His hand ran up to wipe down the streaming jet of water as he shot another look at her. How deadened he felt inside? It was beyond any grain suspicion, her state was a similar one too.

"Oh! Is that why I see happiness play up your features" He asked with a smirk. She clasped the ropes tightly and looked back at him with a deep-seated gaze. She didn't even know what she wanted to say, when he made her uncomfortable with his troubling words, along with being shirtless.

"I want to be alone Rishabh...just go" She said, her voice coming out more of a request. Didn't they say everyone needed to swing high, high and away? Even if not with herself, she wanted her misery to be catapult from the two ropes, by indulging herself in the swing. In hopes to bring some peace to herself and as she saw him get ready to leave, she kicked her feet forward in the ground to swing back, hoping to take off into the wet air. But the damp mud beneath her feet sunk them in further than being able to give the necessary momentum to swing off. Depressed and dejected, she gave up trying. But right as she stood back from her attempts, her feet raised up, straightening at the knees, as she felt pulled backwards by her waist. Lord! she cried thinking why he still couldn't let go?...

Definitely he wanted to disappear from the face of earth, but when he saw her kick at the ground hopeless, he couldn't make himself walk away. Not knowing what came over him, without a word, he had gently drawn her towards him and released her to swing forth. She oddly didn't resist the offer either. Well, he could have gone at least after the first time, but against his own will, he stood there without purpose, except perhaps to help her that moment and continued thrusting her forward. She had let him go on twice, but after that she left her feet down, offering friction to slow down. The third time when he heaved her backwards, she faced him with curious eyes. Right when he saw her hold her gaze, he did not let go of her waist at that high point. Seconds passed as she matched his hurt emotions and the moment extended endless. Her eyes mellowed and her lashes lowered. She quietly got up to get away instead.

But he didn't want her to. Did he just see something fade in her eyes? A shriek of abandonment was voiced in that weak blip of time perhaps. He rightfully stopped her by her elbow once again and turned her over. Now holding onto her by both her arms, she fought his weighty clutch "Don't fight it..." He said in a hushed tight whisper.

And when nothing stopped her, he gave her a compelling kiss and crushed her lips brashly. Pulling her tighter and closer as he caged her in his brazen embrace, she had come to completely rest on him. Her hands rammed his chest, but he was mighty stronger than she was. When all was lost she succumbed to his kiss, like she could have lasted any longer against him. There was no thought given if this is what was the need of the moment from his side and he had been intention-less up until that point. Then again he had suddenly felt to urge to do so when his last string of patience and frustration was stoked by her coldness. Her eyes squeezed shut the same time when she entered a mental brawl, as his kiss grew stronger and deeper. A cascade of reactions and responses kicking alive inside them...

Indeed it was the submission they needed...even if it was only short-lived.

Didn't edit much, so people, keep an eye out for errors. Do let me know how you liked it. I promise, Maneet are back. Sorry my muse was bored with too much Maneet in all my FFs. Hope you understand. Comments? Like button?.

Link to the tree house visual

Link to Catalina visual

Forgot to mention that I took up inspiration from one of my favorite remix of all times. If you are interested click here. Dance Masti