Now that Leher is staying in his room, Dhruv tells me that he prefers to spend much of his time in the room above the tea shop, where his childhood friend Guru lives (I'm not sure if you watch Na Bole tum, Na maine Kuch kaha, where Guru is Kunal's friend and caretaker. At the moment, I'm undecided what is Guru's role or characterization is) and perched on the parapet wall, he has a good view of the goings on of
his own roof.
The theme song is on repeat, so couldn't help writing this scene.
She stilled as she heard the aching melody pour through the windows, despite the loud thud of rain outside. Naina went running out as always as if the music was her cue to go find him hidden in the shadows of the trees that lined Guru's home.
"Naina come back inside..." She yelled without moving out of the kitchen, her hand now trembling from the weight of the tea kettle that had seemed almost light only a moment ago.
There was music that could make the soul caught up in a trance, nearing a transparency that let others see through them, naked and breathing in its existence. And then there were the ones which he played in the glow of the night, like he was insistent on anchoring all of the world's sorrows onto her frail being, as if he meant for a new depth to the moments that separated them. She felt in every run of the bow over the tensile strings, a drift of melancholy and a withering that seemed to last without end and without her knowledge, she moved to the door.
Through the thin sheet of rain, the light caught his eyes and he looked up just in time to notice her step out into the wetness that burst into wayward sprinkles from the sudden wash over from a gust of wind. At that instant, his finger unconsciously pressed more forcibly onto the neck of the violin and the notes thumped faded into a flat note. The instrument slid off his shoulders as he got off the wall, with the veil of water running over his eyes, he held her gaze, thick and intent and unmoving.
She looked on without looking away and in the silence of the rain, she heard the tunes play on, soulful and vibrant in its throbbing, even as he stopped playing them and walked to the edge of the wall.
And she found herself asking in that prolonged minute, did playing that tune make him as vulnerable as he looked then? Or did he play when
something else made him this defenseless?
If only she could read the mournful whispers that continued to waft in the air...
Edited by 6th.Element - 13 years ago
CID
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
