IPKKND SS: Cracks in Perfection (Chapter 2, pg. 13) - Page 4

Sorry I haven't updated in so long! I've had exams but they're over now so I'm back on board! 😊

As he entered the house, his eyes were automatically drawn to the portrait that stood in pride at the hearth of his once happy home. It had become a habit for him now, to look to the portrait whenever he stepped over the threshold, whether he was walking out into the dark world or returning back to the even more dismal mansion where the portrait was the only beacon of light. So he looked now towards the picture of the woman, the image of perfection, but it was not there. He blinked hard, confident that it was a trick of the light. Surely her beloved Devi Maiyya would not be so cruel as to take away the only thing remaining of her. He slowly opened his eyes, but the portrait was still absent from its position. It was only then that he noticed Asha standing there, her chocolate-brown eyes, so very like his own, filled with a nervous apprehension. His gaze traveled from her stricken face to the floor near her feet, where the shattered remnants of his most prized possession lay. He stared at the broken shards, his mind refusing to comprehend what his eyes told him. The last piece of paradise, the shadow of a lost happiness, was lying in fragments, as if she herself had been just a dream. All that remained were the cracks in perfection.

He looked back at his niece, who was now trembling in fear. He moved towards her, his intention unclear. Perhaps he would have comforted her, as he so often did, or perhaps he would have unleashed his legendary temper on the little girl. But he never got the chance, as his sister stepped in between him and her daughter before he had taken more than a step in Asha's direction. Her long hair fell in silky currents, shielding her beautiful face, but the guilt was unmistakable in her hazel-brown eyes. He knew what she was going to say before she spoke in a soft, modulated tone and her words only reinforced his conviction.

"It was me Chotte. I accidentally knocked the portrait over when I was dusting the walls. I'm sorry."

Sorry. As if that one word would suffice for the world of pain she had shown him. "Is there anything left for you to break Di? You have already destroyed everything: your own life, my happiness, and this family. And now you have cracked the last piece of perfection left. What else is there Di? Nothing. You have left me with absolutely nothing."

He walked away, leaving Anjali alone in the foyer of the mansion. If her brother had shouted, she would have withstood his anger. It was familiar, expected; she knew how to deal with his fury. But his quiet assertions, delivered in a voice devoid of emotion were more than she could bear. The bleak finality of his tone, the despair and the resignation were foreign to her. Her Chotte was arrogant, self-assured, and stubborn. She had never before heard the utter hopelessness she had heard in his words today. She sank onto the floor, stroking the scarred surface of the portrait, staring at the perfection of her face despite the cracks marring it. She did not notice the thin streaks of blood she left in her wake as she continued smoothing her hand over the jagged glass until another hand wrapped around her own, halting her path. She looked up into warm brown eyes, which were currently narrowed at her in silent inquiry. When she did not answer, he voiced his question aloud.

"Why Di?"

She avoided his eyes and muttered a quick reply. "For Asha."

He was not fooled by her pitiful attempt at appeasing him and persisted, asking her a second time. "Why Di?"

She sighed and finally met his steady gaze. "Because I had to do something to ease the burden in my heart."

He nodded. Burden of the heart. That was something he understood. He helped her up and doctored her hands. She did not flinch when he put antiseptic on the cuts, though the medicine was sure to sting. Pain became unnoticeable when it was an ever present presence. This too he understood; it was a presence he felt lurking behind him everyday.

She thanked him and both cousins turned towards the portrait, drawn to it even now, despite the cracks in its perfection. They did not pick up the glass slivers, leaving it to the one whom the shards had pierced the hardest to decide their fate.

"Mamu?"Arnav looked up at the sound of his niece's hesitant voice, which was still tinged with trepidation. He opened his arms and she promptly clambered up into his embrace with the ease that came with years of practice. He held her that way, rocking her back and forth while she gathered up the courage to tell him the truth. Asha had been taught to always be honest by Anjali, who understood the destructive power of lies far better than anyone else in the Raizada family. So the little girl adhered to her mother's teachings now and gave voice to what she knew but her uncle did not.

"Mamu, Amma didn't break the portrait." There was a long pause, as Asha's courage faltered again. Nothing is more important than the truth Asha. Never forget that. As her mother's words echoed in her head, Asha took a deep breath and looked up at her uncle with far more bravery than she possessed at the tender age of ten.

"Amma didn't break the portrait Mamu. I.. I did. I was playing with my ball and I accidentally threw it at the portrait. Amma tried to catch it but she couldn't get there fast enough, because of her limp. But she tried Mamu, she really did. She almost fell trying to get to it in time. But she couldn't. It wasn't her fault. It was mine. But it was an accident. I'm sorry Mamu. I'm really sorry."

She met Arnav's eyes hesitantly, afraid to see the embers of anger glowing in the molten depths. But to her surprise, she saw only gentleness and another emotion she could not describe, an emotion that brought tears to her eyes. She impatiently brushed them away and reached up to carefully wipe the drops threatening to spill from Arnav's eyes.

"Don't cry Mamu. I'll bring her back. I promise." With that solemn oath, the little girl slid off Arnav's lap and calmly walked out the door. Arnav stared after her, a sad smile adorning his handsome face. Asha did not even know the woman's name, let alone her significance, and yet she had vowed to bring her back. Such love. She had loved him like that once and he had cruelly rejected it, throwing her love back in her face. It was true, what they said. You never knew what you had until it was gone. He had learnt that lesson the hard way. He had once had perfection and now all that remained were the cracks.

"You knew Nannav." Arnav did not turn around, waiting for NK to continue. "You knew Di didn't break the portrait Nannav, that Asha was the one. It was written all over her face." Arnav did not deny the accusation, for it was true. When Arnav did not so much as incline his head in acknowledgment, NK stalked around to face him. "Why Nannav? Why did you say those things to Di? She is carrying around enough pain in her heart to last several lifetimes. What was the need for you to add more?"

"Pain? What does Di know of pain? She is feeling guilt, and that is a heavy burden to bear. But pain? She knows nothing of pain. Pain is the thought that I might never see her again. Pain is the doubt of whether she is safe and happy. Pain is the absence of her smile, her laughter, her twinkling eyes, her very aura. Pain is a unique combination of anger, hate, recrimination, and sorrow. Pain is the burden I have been carrying in my heart for the past ten years. What does Di know of pain? Nothing."

Arnav had never spoken so many words to NK before. But he had missed the essence, the meaning of the word pain. Pain was the torture of living without her, and they all felt it, in the very air they breathed.

Pain. Maybe it was that pain that hung like an oppressive cloud over the turrets of Shantivan. Maybe it was that pain that turned the smiles of her family into unpleasant grimaces. She had to find the woman in the portrait. It was the only way to end the pain. But first, she needed answers. And there was only one person who would be willing to listen to her questions. It was time for another visit to Payal Raizada.

*THIS IS ENTIRELY MY OWN WORK. PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR REPRODUCE.*

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