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22: A Monsoon, A Revamp:
The sky has taken the colour of grey. It looked like the bright whites and blues above and around Belhaven, have decided to turn into grey but in a slow pace; metamorphosis of white into black has been ceased at a point and the sky has taken its personal shade of grey. The clouds came closer, and parted ways every often, enjoying their little hide and seek with the sun, while the waves on the sea-bed, calmed down witnessing the show above. Just when the tides angled down to almost flat, anticipating those first sprinkles of monsoon, the sky would reveal itself clear, elated that it has managed to trick the tide, yet again.
The breeze around grew colder and the moisture in air was renewing. Mornings turned lazy, and the days turned shorter. There was a serene calm aura settling in along with the change in the season. It was the Monsoon, and Khushi welcomed it with open arms. She knew Sameer wasn't really happy about her continuing to work after summer too, but she loved the whole fact of getting out into this climate and be with just herself.
Each day she drove her way to and fro in the long highway. The salted breeze of Belhaven's coast greeted her from one end and the typical city chillness of Edinburgh embraced her from the other end of her journey. And that kind of change was welcoming. Refilling. And she just couldn't give up that job of hers. Not just yet.
There was also this whole awkwardness in her home, with Arnav, so much that she just chose to stay away as much as possible. They didn't fight ruthlessly like they always did. And that for some weird reason seemed to be her problem. Silence engulfed around them and in its place was weird awkward stares they gave each other. There was no tease, sarcasm, nor playfulness in his eyes, which was the only emotion she ever saw until then. In its place was some cold emotion. It wasn't hatred to easily name it, nor was it disgust. It was more sullen. Glazed. Like he was trying to impose, express a lot through his eyes, but they were just as unreadable to her, as he had intended to. Breakfasts, dinners, evenings in the store when she was at the desk and he, in his room, or any other such small instances where they would probably cross each other, there were all just plain awkward face-offs. And small little stroppy talks. Everything of which passed like a montage of routine events.
At the end of every such strange day though, there was some kind of communication between them, which for the record can be termed as significant. As one lateral wall of her room upstairs, formed effective border between the Store and the main house, it was almost as if her room was above and adjacent to that of his. And as she lay every night on her bed, her eyes struggling for some sleep, she heard soft guitar strings whispering into her ears. It was him, right there and she felt him, every night. Although initially it was annoying, as she'd like to think, but eventually she did come in terms with it. There was no other option though, except to put up another indecent fight with him. And which she was tired of doing. Instead, she chose to analyse the little tuning that she heard. Soft, little, wavering uncertain tunes, that almost easily helped her to drift away into her very own uncertain musical dreams.
She has gotten used to all of that, now.
*
One such lazy Sunday morning, as she lay with her limbs scattered on the bed, tugged inside warm duvet, she jerked lazily, disturbed by an odd wooden sound. Ignoring, just as she snuggled inside to settle into another comfortable position, she heard the sound again.
Irritated, she opened her thick, glued lashes with great difficulty and she saw blur. Rolling her eyes in that half-opened manner, she was set to shut them back and she heard the sound again. This time a little louder and continuous too. Like a shack of wood is being cut using continuous strokes of hatchet. She sat straight up and looked around. Fetching her glasses from bedside, she pushed herself off the bed in lazy movements, opening the door of her room, rubbing her eyes away from the sleep, peeping through the upstairs railing and picking up Coco at the side of her room... all the same time.
"You might want to wake up properly before you decide to walk down those stairs" Sameer said from kitchen, not yet looking up at her.
"I'm up..." she mumbled, giving pouty kisses to Coco.
"Is that some new style of wearing your glasses then?"
She checked herself, placing Coco back on the floor and it ran down, all the way towards Sameer. She wore her glasses backside, the mess of her early morning hair tangled between the two thin frames and the stems, pointing out in between her eyes and her earlobes. "Argh!" she slurred again and adjusted them, slipping them on properly. "Very funny" She huffed to Sameer's slight giggling.
Nevertheless, she walked down lazily and leaned onto him from behind, as he faced the stove working with his scrambled eggs and bread. She sniffed, with her closed eyes, when she heard the wooden sound again. She ignored.
"Not again! I demand for Parantha today. Aloo ke, with Ghee...Mmm Yum!" Her eyes were closed back, dreamily.
"Excuse me? You seriously need to wake up sweetie"
"Dad! You're so boring! Why didn't you learn to make spicy, juicy Indian food when you can learn so much of western? I'm done with eggs, pancakes, breads, pasta, duh..."
"Online cookery websites are a free source you see? And for the record, I'm done with the learning too. It's your turn now."
"You think I cannot?"
"I'm sure actually" Sameer used his spatula to support his voice. She raised her eye-brows. "I'll prove you wrong. Just wait and watch, within no time I'll make you gorgeous dishes, just like mom----"
She stopped, not wanting take the conversation that way, and she heard the sound again, almost like it was cutting her off. She used the opportunity to let out her anger.
"What the hell!? What is it?" she made her eyes big, completely wide awake now.
Sameer knew what exactly was happening. His wife was almost coming into their casual talks finally, other than in those bitter comments and remarks, but it was Khushi he was dealing with. The camaraderie between them about Catherine wasn't just that yet, but it looked like it was a start. His eyes were longed on hers knowingly for a moment longer that he had intended to while she had this deceptive gaze. He shook his head away from the little thought process and smiled, going back to his eggs.
"The tree-house is being revamped" he answered, casually.
"What?! At this time? Who is that nutcase?" she exclaimed.
"Arnav"
"What!!???" this time she gave a clear horrified look. "Didn't you tell him about it?" she was now yelling a little. Or it looked like she was, as she did become a little hysteric.
"I tried to warn" Sameer, as usual was nonchalant.
"Dad?" she pressed, for some reaction.
"Khushi you are overreacting. Apparently he just needs a bigger place to set up his musical equipment, with heading further into the fest. He mentioned something about you being disturbed if he practised here. And besides, it's not like he is going to stay here forever? And he might just use it in the nights, you know?"
"I'm putting up with him around, am I not? This was so not needed!"
"Are you telling me that it's okay with you if you keep hearing music around here?"
"-----I...uh, wouldn't say that..."
"Well, then that settles the discussion. He would most definitely need some privacy to create music. Moreover, he would not have to keep fighting with you every day, given the awesome history you all have"
"Dad----"
"Khushi, I tried to talk to him against it but he was persistent. You can try if you want" he said not turning back. "If you care" He added as an afterthought.
"Do I look like I care?" She rolled her eyes, still lost in her thought.
But the next thing she knew after going about her morning routine, she was walking hysterically towards the far end of the shore from their backyard, a few meters away from the residential colony.
There stood two trees, rooted into the sand, one thick and short while the other, lesser thick, but taller than the first. Spiral wooden narrow stair case leading up to the smaller tree, which didn't have any real branches, but in their place was a wood bridge built with a rope railing. The bridge started from the small tree and stretched leading across ending at a small hut-house, affixed on the large tree. The hut house, laterally overviewed the sea behind. As she walked across the shore, she spotted him standing at the base of one of the trees. Two planks of wood were affixed in criss-cross manner, on the truck, and he was nailing screws into the planks against the base of the hut, making the basement strong.
**
"Have you lost it?"
She almost startled him, yet he managed to turn around with that nonchalant look. "Hello there, yourself" he faked a smile and turned his attention back to the stack, with his one hand wiping the sweat off his face. The sound of his hammer hits, echoed around, in tuned pattern.
"This place is not safe! Do you not see how close this is to the shore? One high tide and that entire branch is off..." she pointed out to the one big central branch, across which the maximum portion of the house is affixed. He followed her eyes and then let out a small sneer. "Such high tides will not come, drama queen"
She let out an exasperated sigh. "There were one whole series of such tree-houses here. It was one happening tourist place a few years ago. They built this as a resort. Those high tides' collapsed them all, one after another" she used her hands indicating quotations. And he stopped doing whatever he was, jumped off the trunk, onto the sand, and glanced ahead, at the half-cut branches and worn out traces of Tree-houses. There were a series of them, but few, not many. He did notice them before when he chose this place.
"Storm is expected here almost every rainy season. And even if great damage doesn't happen, the roaring tides manage to take such things near the shore away. That is why the harbour is almost empty around this time. This is a danger zone Arnav. Nobody is allowed here except locals..."
"Well, for now I'm a local. I like this place and it's alright. It's not like I'm going to stay here forever. I think you are overreacting"
"Do you not get---"
""Besides, there is a reason why only this one sustained. Its strong enough I guess" He smiled, a genuine one.
"Go to hell." She clenched her teeth and turned around sharply to walk away.
"By the way.." he stopped her, just when she was a few steps ahead. "It's good to see you concerned for me. I like it"
"Bullshit" she continued to walk.
"I could use some help, though" He called out.
"Like I don't have anything better to do?" she continued to walk, by now almost yelling, just to be audible to him. "You soon will drift away into the ocean there, good luck with it. Don't tell me I didn't warn"
"The interiors need a lot of cleaning up!"
"Good luck for that too!"
He smiled, keeping his gaze intact at her back. Her hips rather, which were moving as dramatically as she was, in that hard, thick sand. She was still a few steps away to reach the back-door of her home.
"Plus, we don't want to be called murders here. Tell your dad about your critical situation, about your suicidal tendencies"
"I'll tell him that I have my very own knight in the armour here, The Khushi Gupta" he screamed back.
"Rather tell him that you are mentally retired and you need help"
With that she walked away into the house and he was left smiling at something, which he still was trying to figure out.
Moments later, rather, several minutes and hours later, when he was finally convinced that the external nailing of the wood has been done to a good extent, strengthening the basement as much as he can, he dusted his hands, tired and exhausted. He never really remembered when was the last time he had this sense of relief, after working way too hard for something. Life has always been easy for him. He never really had to struggle for anything and maybe as his father always said, it was the reason why he didn't really acknowledge the success that came his way. The taste of sweat as they say, does not come with a sense of hard work that one goes through, it's rather, the sense of self-accomplishment achieved when you see the end results. He actually had managed to build himself a house, quite literally. He knew he had several lavish ways to live around here. He also knew there were million easy ways to get the tree-house revamped. Yet, he chose to do this himself. Lately, certain behavioural aspects and changes in him, as minute as they were, were proving to be a surprise to his own self.
The Rockstar Arnav Singh Raizada, the Indian musical heartthrob, the sensation of the current music era, was actually hammering, nails into a wood, along the whole basement of a house, in which he so wanted to live. This surely would become one sensational news, if he was accessible to media. Thankfully he wasn't. That was another relief around here.
The little pleasures achieved by the mundane ways of living life.
Sighing to himself, he walked on the thick sand, lazily, finding the way to the back-door of Gupta villa, far than ever. As soon as he entered into the kitchen from the back door; he craved for some food and his mind already started alerting him to call it off for the night. Boy, he was exhausted.
He was so occupied in searching for some food, that he almost didn't hear the loud laughing that he heard from the living room. Initially, he didn't quite recognize it, but as realization dawned onto him, he was appalled. It was her laugh. Even as he realized he was exaggerating it, he couldn't just help but think about the way her laugh sounded.
When was the last time he heard her laugh like that? Okay, did he ever see her laugh, like that, to begin with? Even all those years back? Okay, maybe he was inflating it all. She couldn't be that abnormal. She laughed usually, didn't she? Or was he getting insane by the day to emphasise on little things, more?
Why was he suddenly so particular about calculating her behavioural aspects, comparing them, weighing her reactions and looking more into all of that? What was he comparing her to, actually? Is it to the imaginary version of her, affixed in his mind since forever?
He moved, to come in view behind the counter right across the living room, and there she was , watching some cartoon show, which looked like the one in which the cat chased the mouse, he didn't know, he didn't concentrate, because his eyes, his ears, and his stance was completely attuned to that of her body language. A track pant thrown under a black tee, that was loosely wrapped by a white oversized shirt, unbuttoned in that typical rugged manner, as she pretty much tangled herself over the couch, her limbs scattered away, her one hand holding the remote and another licking away a chocolate, and she laughed. Out and loud, in the most obnoxious way he could ever imagine as the typical cartoon music teamed along with her laughter. She giggled letting out those odd sounds, and despite everything, she had managed to magnetize his eyes around her.
She was just another girl and she was laughing watching a cartoon!!
For the love of his god, he just didn't know which part of the whole scene was enthralling to him. One moment, he had this urge to smack himself and look away. Only if he could.
But in the next moment, like someone called out to her from behind, she turned in a whim and caught him marvelling at her. Almost.
"Christ! You scared me!" she uttered, looking horrified, as she pushed herself up and out of the couch, to look a little less indecent. Her long oversized shirt trailed down, as she adjusted the oversized garment along her arms and folded her hands across, just to somehow cover herself up.
"I should be the one saying it and you should hear yourself while laughing" he somehow managed to get a grip of the situation, but his eyes didn't give him all that required support.
"I didn't have to, because I was under the impression that I was alone. You here, of course have to ruin it for me"
"Where's Sameer uncle?"
"At a local store. Grocery shopping. You look horrible." She commented at his stressed out appearance. He just shrugged and turned around, taking the moment for himself while looking for something in the racks. Not finding anything, he shifted to the refrigerator, when she cleared her throat, trying to grab his attention.
"Uh..there, there isn't anything, which is why dad have gone out" she said when he popped his head out of the refrigerator door, the light from the inside reflecting on his face. "You hungry?" she added to his bleak look. He closed the door shut.
"Apparently, I can't live smelling sweat and eating wood, I guess"
Sarcasm again. But she didn't have anything to give back at that. She could tell he was hungry. And there was no food. "I, uh..cant cook..."
"Still?"
"Nope and there is not much food in here. I'm waiting for him too-----"
"And then he'll make dinner?"
"We were planning on ordering something tonight"
He didn't look like he could wait. He looked way too exhausted for her to be rude. "I can make some instant noodles, until then!" she offered, looking a little less guilty than a minute earlier.
"Show me the packs, I'll make it myself"
"You...you could watch this show. Its uh, relaxing. I'll get it ready in five"
"But will I be able to eat it?" He raised an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes, not wanting to answer and walked past him to fetch the utensils and ready-to-make packs. She felt him move away, and watched him reach the couch from the corner of her eye, as the water in the pan started to boil. A little over five minutes later, she served the noodles in a bowl, poured some soda into a glass, and walked with the two in her hands towards the couch, only to find him sound asleep, already.
"Ar..." she watched his face relaxed, his brows at peace and his muscles undisturbed. She didn't have the heart to wake him, nor to leave him hungry. Neither did she have much of a choice. Frowning, more at herself, for being the worst host ever, she slowly slipped off the remote from his hand and turned off the television. She tip-toed to close the main door and then picked up the sleeping Coco into her arms. She almost walked upstairs, when her eyes caught the unfolded woollen clothes on another arm-chair in the living room. Making a decision quickly, she picked up a woollen shawl and layered it on him tenderly and before she could give herself a chance to rethink her actions, she flew up into her room.
**
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