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25.
Nainatara.
On most nights she looked like a celestial nymph, she had always looked perfect with porcelain skin and beautiful eyes, a sort of beauty that captures your senses, the sort of beauty for which men lose all their sense of rationale.
She had looked that way many years earlier when she was seventeen and when they had met for the very first time.
Dev had been nineteen then, the college jock everyone loved, everyone felt easy to talk to.
The sense of charm he emanated undone many, geeks and beauties alike.
But this girl, a mere chit of seventeen didn't seem impressed with him.
On her painting exhibition they had gone, him and Maan to make up for the absence of their elders.
Maan had a bored indifference always, and at 21, he was the senior everyone respected. He was inspecting one of the paintings the girl had drawn, his brows knit together whilst Dev himself cracked a couple of sexual innuendos about one of the paintings and made a couple of girls laugh.
He had seen her then.
Nainatara.
He hadn't known she was the painter. She seemed young but even then her beauty stood out the best. He had known that she would be a head Turner. She already was.
She was surveying a painting with a critical eye just like Maan was a couple of paintings away.
"What do you think it is?" He asked, trying to make a conversation.
She looked at him then, her slender brow raising just a little.
"It isn't modern art" she told him.
"So are you telling it's not open to interpretation?"
She didn't answer him.
"This place seems familiar" he said looking at the landscape painted in light hues, the river, the hills and the boats coming alive in a beautiful blur.
"Nainital" she said although she looked a little surprised.
"You didn't believe me about every art being open to interpretation. What would you say now? Why had the artist picked up this particular place out of a millions of them?"
"Maybe she had seen this place long enough" she said shrugging.
Dev smiled at that.
"Or maybe this place matters a lot, stands out in her memory" he said shrugging, hands in his pockets. "Told you, every art has a story"
"You find what you seek" she told and walked away before he could further the conversation.
Much later, he had seen her talk to his brother Maan, both of them feeling comfortable with each other, more at ease. Somehow it bugged him.
His brother was smarter but he had also been the no nonsense kind.
He didn't come up with the back stories Dev came up with. He wasn't as fanciful as him.
Watching them together made Dev see how both of them are in the same frequency.
Especially when he had seen the girl smile at something, not flirtatious but just a friendly smile, he had known that yet again he lost to his brother. He wasn't the one to keep score, yet this particular failure hit him right in the ribs for some reason.
And hence when he met Nainatara several years later, he had not tried his usual jocular techniques. He hadn't wanted to feel that inadequate again.
Hence he changed tactics, finally achieving something which is no less of a miracle.
Ever since he had known her, she had been a lot of things, her beauty as always being the first striking thing about her.
And most powerful too. But today, when he had seen her wake up with a jerk, troubled from the nightmare she might have seen, he had seen her form huddled closer, hugging her knees to her chest as she sat with her back to headrest, looking into space in silence, for the first time she didn't look like the seductress. With her long hair brushed to a side, with her eyes lost, she looked like the very description of sadness.
The room was dark enough for her to not know he was awake too.
"Till when are we going to keep this pretense?" He had asked a while ago.
She did seem surprised, the unexpected voice jerking her out of her reverie.
However, she placed her chin on her knee as she thought about her answer.
"Till one of us would heal" she had said.
She wasn't talking about the physical wounds that he had of course.
"Or till we push ourselves until the last thread binding us would break off" she had said.
Last thread. Was there a thread binding them still? If there was any, Dev didn't see it.
He hadn't replied to her although he was surprised that she acknowledged their eventful separation which was on the cards anyway.
Another restless night they spent together, first time truly together in something and that being suffering.
Maan had looked at the slender woman before him that had her eyes clouded with passion, her blouse almost come undone for him.
When she had walked in to his makeshift office that evening, he had masked his surprise with a polite hello.
But when she had teased him and then stripped her shirt, he sighed and put his file away.
He hated this part.
Much to popular disbelief, he didn't enjoy putting the other person down.
He walked to her and stood right before her.
"When you're done buttoning it back, you can go home" he had said and walked past her.
She looked flabbergasted for a moment.
"Are you...are you rejecting me?" She had asked incredulous.
"I thought it was clear. Should I try another innovative way to say no?"
She looked at him with dark furious eyes.
"I didn't think you were such an impotent bas***d"
"Humor me" he said with a smile "If you have enough brains, you'd check your tongue before you say another word lest you be kicked out of this project"
"You wouldn't dare"
"Poor girl" he said with mock pity "You still have no idea what a bas***d I am" he said and walked out, closing the door behind him.
A minute later, he had seen Rasika walk out of the door, dressed back, and seethed at him.
Without a word, she had walked to her car and closed the door before zooming away.
Maan sighed. He had to make a call to Rasika's father after all. For all that stubborn act the woman had put up, she still had no idea that Rasika's father, Mr. Raichand worked for Khurana constructions before he had started his own firm. Or that he was a well wisher of Maan and is the only reason Maan had allowed them to do business together.
Maan shook his head. What a pity.
He stretched his arms, involuntarily looking up towards the room with the lone light on. Now that the professional headaches were done, he had to go see his personal headache. His Geet.
He had stayed back long enough. He had no intention to wait further and give more space lest she gets comfortable with this space and would bolt.
Smiling, he went to her room, taking two steps at once, whistling as he went.
She was no where in sight when he went to her room and stopped at the threshold.
The wind picked up and the windows were kept open, making the curtains raise and fall, making the wings of the window beat themselves against the wall.
She had come home, he knew he had. Then where is she gone?
He walked inside the room to close the window effectively stopping the fluttering of the book that was laid open on the table.
He had stopped at the book, recognizing it to be the one that she wrote on, often.
Next to the book was a photo frame put face down. He picked it up and turned it back half of his mind expecting to see her family photo.
But there it was, his old smiling old black and white picture in his hands.
If he had had doubts if she still had feelings for her husband, they dissipated in that moment.
The book was opened and something was written in there. He had touched those words almost reverently hesitating before picking it up.
Dil Mera badtameez hain bada
Yeh wahi dektha hain Jo dekhna chahe
Tumhare Lafzon ke kadwahat ko nazar andaaz kartha hain
Tumhare aankhon ke sachchai se karta hain pyar
Apne baton se dil todna jaante ho tum
Lekin apne pyaar ko chupana nahi jaante
Har baat pe chillana tumse koi seekhe
Itna nafrat agar tum karte ho mujhse fir kyu tumhari aankhein doondthey hain mujhe
Meri zindagi andhero se roshni mein aayi zaroor
Lekin raasta dikhaya tha tumne
Mere apno ne jab kar diya mujhe parayi
Ajnabi ho kar bhi tumne mujhpe kiya vishwaas
Log kehte hain ki tum paththar dil waale ho
Woh nahi jaante tumhare aakhon ki dard ko
Parai tum mujhe maante zaroor
Par tum nahi jaante kitne kareeb ho tum mere
Mein humesha tumse kehti thi tum jeete jaagte bure sapne ho mere
Par yeh mein shaayad kabhi keh nahi paungi ke
agar tum hotein toh bura sapna bhi achcha lagne laga
Dusht daanav toh tum ho zaroor
Par shayad itne bhi bure nahi ho...
He felt someone snatch the book from his hands and saw Geet who was now clutching it to her heart.
Her eyes were red and watery.
He extended his hand in a mind to reach out to her only to have her take a step back.
"Geet?"
"This doesn't mean anything" she told him furious.
"It was written long before I know..."
"You know...?" He prompted but she didn't answer.
She was tired. She had had enough with his bipolar attitude. There were times she wants to run to him with all her problems but the other times he does something like this and she doesn't understand. She feels enough guilt for liking him, for loving him despite not being worthy of him.
He can do whatever he wants with his life, he can love whosoever but why would he have to do such things like taking care of all her needs, being kind to her? She knew she was being unreasonable yet when did ever heart knew reason.
She felt anger at herself which she projected on him.
"I never knew you were into poetry he said solemnly.
It pinched.
"I never knew you were into Rashika either
"Keeping a track of my personal life, are you? he asked tilting his head to a side.
"What to do, if tomorrow you need somebody to book a room for you two, it becomes my job. The least I could do is know about my work
"Do you realize you're crossing some limits? he walks closer and she doesn't realize she had been cornered against the wall until she feels the wall behind her.
"Not as much as you are Sir
There was a thunder roaring in the sky, and lightning bolting nearby, filling the room with bright light for a moment before it dissipated.
She looked at his face that looked none the different but his eyes, they were stormy, as if there's a storm brewing in his heart as well.
"I am, am I?"he said his hands on either side of her head and leaned in.
"Who ever taught you etiquettes of having a conversation did a poor job
His eyebrows snapped together as he felt her breath on his skin. "Are you drunk?
"You didn't leave me a choice on that
He had understood then where she had gone. To his study where there was a cupboard with a collection of alcohol.
He also understood what triggered it.
"I didn't ask you to snoop around
"I didn't ask you to screw Rashika
"Mind your language
"Mind your screwing
Suddenly he felt pity. Anger didn't consume him as much as pity did.
"Why are you so bothered he had asked in a softer tone.
"I don't know. It bothers me that it's bothering me
"Why are you making this difficult to me than it already is he said touching his knuckles to her cheek.
She felt her eyes close at the tender touch before they opened to look at him.
"I don't know. I never got anything easy. Why should you?
He smiled for the first time in the evening.
"I never got anything easy either. Not anything precious anyway
With that he closes the distance between them, giving in to the voice in his head that had been asking him to do it for months now, taking her lips in a swoop.
Although he had pictured it a million times earlier, it still made his heart skip a beat of how sweet she tasted. She tasted of a sweet scent, of lilacs, roses, love and dreams.
He parted slowly, every inch of him rebelling at the idea of stopping.
"Ask me to stop he said praying for patience.
"Stop. Stop talking she said with her hands climbing towards his collar, pulling him close.
And he obliged.
ON GOING FF : ⭐ ON GOING SS : ⭐ Kismat Connection 4 Link ⭐ MISTRESS 3 LINK ON GOING OS : ⭐ DIL KA RISHTA LINKS ⭐ PERFECTLY IMPERFECT 3 LINK
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