**Neil Bhatt/Kesar Appreciation Thread** - Page 25

Depart... & Return

I'd slept over my moment of revelation, over the storm in its wake ... inner and outside, and over the passing compensation offered by the instance of shocking her limbo with questions she hadn't seen coming.

I'd slept over the conflicting emotion of discovering her, and losing her in the same moment; the conflict of belated distinction of right from rights; the conflict in this resolve of starting fresh, for her, without her.

I had woken up, and done what was to be done. Called the panchayat, and set her free.

My teeth grit, fists clench painfully over tufts of hair, eyes pinch themselves tight, unbearably tight, but the tears escape in silent trails anyway, echoed in their silence by a breakdown I can't stuff inside anymore.

A knock on the door forces complacence; hasty, unprepared and overwhelmed I can't but show her my back. No more than I can help turning right back around, and begging her forgiveness. I may not have been wrong, but I've done wrong. For her, against her.

It's only when her hands embrace my folded own, that I realize how tedious I was finding it to breathe - I look her in the eye. Relieved and resigned. Her own relief is washing back softness to every line of her face that has been hard and set like a stone all these days. She's condoning me, thanking me, smiling at me...

I extend my hand in friendship and when she takes it, I think to myself ...this is my long road back home.

***

Being Normal

Finding my way into the kitchen, sans task or beckoning, first thing in the morning, tell tale signs of sleepiness lingered. I dropped my weight like a sack of potatoes, rubbed a hand over my face – admittedly disturbed – curiously although, not about whether or not this is still the most natural way to begin a morning of a day in the life of me, and why.

As natural as it was, it turned out, for her to echo my name in question, then name my concern in answer herself. I nod, slowly, as the muse hits me.

Where again, was the last decade of my life? What had my days been like without this routine? Without her? I must have been on drugs.

Past my thoughts, I hear her assurance. She's justifying Mota Bha's love as above and beyond conditions of our unintentional disregard and his fair displeasure. I just look at her, trying not to read into those words. But how pray, should I not.

Manaa lenge na?... I ask her, and she assures me without a second's hesitance. And for that moment, I sit basking in the bliss of her affirmation, just that, perspective put to bay.

Until a glass of milk extended under my nose serves unwarranted distraction to my perceived extent of her promise. I frown at the glass, then at her, and question; she insists it's only best for me – and I try to butt in a word of dissent – but she additionally insists about her prerogative to insist, as a friend. A chimera of me steps out of my person, points a finger at me and laughs, from behind her – in relief, in disbelief, in euphoria… at the return of patronizing Gulaal. I fight the my smile, because a forcefully patronized Kesar is not supposed to make peace.

So I frown harder at her. Counter insist about wanting my tea. But really, I'm just playing our familiar game. How did we go from fire and ice to a lukewarm kitchen bickering, status quo, in the span of a mere day?

Normal is boring and over rated, and normal is certainly not her or me. Yet unbelievably, we've both found our benediction in this return of normalcy between.

She challenges me to make my own tea, and I retort at her mocking. Take the challenge and set off to concoct some disaster.

Who cares what becomes of the tea? I'll raise it in toast to us, and it will taste good.

***

First Things First!

She has a way of barging into my life... so that every chapter begins with her.

First to sprout a water spring in my drought hit homeland. First to make my brother, the Vasant Bha, fall in love. First to undo the animosity between my family and her own. First to challenge societal norms and take 'wrong' decisions because they are 'right' for me. First to put herself on line when stakes come calling for sacrifice.

First to become my confidential equal. First to make me want to change. First to rid me of my fear of dark. First to spend a day in my wait outside paathshala. First to cover up my tracks. First to cane me. First to come see me at the boarding.

First I gambled for. First I languish after. First I wrote secret letters to. First I accused of betraying me. First face I wished to see upon my return. First to demolish my defenses. First to mesmerize me. First to see me drunk. First I nurse all night. First I feel responsible for. First in my hate list. First I wall out of my life. First I beg to come back in.

The first person who made me and broke me, spoiled me and stood me up, sheltered me and shut me out. My very first love…

Gulaal.

The first I have a past with. The first I see in my present. The first I seek in my future.

First, and only.

***