Chapter 5
Three months had gone by since that day, yet both replayed that night over and over again. The situation at Omkara's home had oddly melted his ice-cold father. Once a man that had very few words to spare for his eldest son was now constantly searching for answers between his wife and younger children to repair the damage that was already done. Tej in his growing concern was trying to keep tabs on his eldest son's whereabouts, he knew too well that it was late, but it would be a step higher than where he was before. Questions like, where Om was? Who he was with? And where was he out so late with, were finally emerging onto his tongue. Yet he could never ask Om directly, he didn't have that right anymore, but now he finally wanted to know for his own peace of mind. Maybe because now Tej had realised that Om was equally as fragile and yet still quite self-destructive in order to prove a point.
Om, on the other hand, was in the middle of finalising arrangements for his next exhibition. His past few months were spent finishing sculptures, and even redesigning his entire theme. They say sometimes inspiration just strikes late, and he knew he just couldn't ignore it. He wanted the ever so delicacy presents within all his new installations. Even though time had passed away in such a haze he couldn't help but think about Ishaana. His mind was occupied even when he didn't realise it. Her reappearance in his life had changed the perspective on so many things whether he wanted to admit it out loud or not. It was tough swallowing the fact that she was marrying Rohan, but it was a pill that had to be swallowed regardless. He wasn't sure whether it hurt him that he never made an effort to mend any broken bridges, or that he still loved her. The confusion between the two was at times overbearing for his heart and mind.
But today Omkara had made a promise that he wouldn't try and think about her.
Tonight was a huge night for him, he was unveiling his newest collection and the last thing he needed was to be distracted while a significant amount of media probed him with questions about his work. He needed complete and utter concentration on tonight.
Ishaana wasn't too far behind with her thoughts over Om, her heart crippled much more each day thinking of him, she didn't even know why since they hadn't even exchanged any words. She knew it was because she kept looking into his life when she shouldn't have been, but she couldn't help it. She kept looking at how he was doing, and how he was recovering, even the people he interacted with. These things shouldn't really matter to her but yet they did, and it disturbed her. What made it worse was that he never made a damn effort to try and speak to her. He saw her at that party, yet he made no contact before or after the party. She even considered that he would have known that she was right here in this city all these years, yet he still made no effort. How cold could this man really be? And yet she still wanted to know more about him and his life.
Feeling hopeless and weak over a man was the worst thing, and especially over one that didn't deserve it. But things had come to a point where she had to see him once more, tonight was the opening of his latest exhibition and she wanted to see him once, if not for one last time. She was getting married next month to Rohan, and she knew this couldn't go on any longer, it had already gone on long enough. She wasn't sure if she was going to talk to him, but just seeing him this last time would be enough for her heart because she truly believed it would make her content. To make matters more difficult It was a formal exhibition ,so she had to make sure she could get onto the guest list, which was a task when trying to be discrete. But she was able to get her personal assistant to pull a few strings thankfully.
For Om everything about this new collection was kept secretive, not just the artworks for showcasing, but even the name of the exhibition. Om wanted to make sure that the night in every sense was a big unveiling of his hardest work yet. Being a man of punctuality Om was already in a sharp black suit with his hair tied neatly at the back. He was mostly looking forward to both Shivaay and Rudra present in the evening with him, they had both promised to be there for him. Having them by his side was the least he could afford, it's not that if he didn't ask all his family to be there they wouldn't turn up; all except his father. But he did at times wish that they had bothered to keep up with his career on their own just like they did with Shivaay's.
Om arrived early at the gallery, every final touch, hook, and nook was to tend to his personal touch and perfection. He could see a that a few media members were starting to prep up and soon enough all the seats in the gallery space became occupied by his guests, buyers, and reporters. Om stood in a hidden corner waiting impatiently while rubbing his sweaty palms, he wasn't much of a talker or someone who could address people really well so it just made him more nervous. But this was the least exciting part of his work yet most necessary for his potential buyers so they could see the face behind the art they were paying for.
Om still kept rubbing his palms as he peeked through the side to see if his brothers were already there sitting in the front row, but instead, he was astounded and shocked by what he saw. Not only were his brothers sitting there, but also his entire family and most shockingly his father were right up the front. Tej never associated with anything to with Om's career, it was always a sign of his failure and disappointment in him, but today he was sitting there with the rest of his family plastering a weird grin on his face. Om just tilted his head back and leaned against the wall breathing out loud, what was this day coming to he thought. His curator finally came looking for him and then she signalled to him that it was time to come forward and greet everyone.
Om fixed up his tie and walked forward in front of the flashing cameras, he tried keeping his eyes low and mostly on his covered sculpture until he reached the small podium made for the event. Then he slowly moved his eyes towards his family to quickly greet them with just a smile, his mother proudly waved back at him as she turned to Choti ma to show how happy she really was. It was surprising that they all actually seemed happy, and if he wasn't wrong maybe even proud of him today. As soon as the microphone got passed to him the questions started firing up from all directions, but he just smiled and waited that his silence would indicate who was leading the night.
"Firstly and foremostly I would like to say thank you to all my wonderful family, and all the guests and media present here tonight. As you can all see this is a pretty special moment for me as I aim to launch my new exhibition. I will take all questions after the unveiling of my first piece from this collection because I would like to take this moment to first share with you the idea behind it." Om then quickly scanned through the notes in front of him and reminded himself to keep calm and that he had started on a decent note.
"Every collection of mine has started off with its own inspiration..., its own conception... and its own idea. So it's obvious to say that this one is no different, its unique just like the others, but apart from that it also happens to be my hardest work yet. I have never re-shaped a collection after I thought I was done with it, but this one is an exception. Something just happened a few months ago which made me see things in a completely different light and today I get to express it through my art."
He paused and looked up at everyone carefully, they were all quietly listening but still very much attentive and awaiting what more he had to say.
"So first things first, the name! Most of you know I wanted to wait until this very moment to explain the name of my collection and not just throw it out there so people could come up with their own explanations and ideas about it. I wanted to be the one to explain those specific ideas, and hence the wait was necessary. So this collection of mine is called Shaiban, it's named after none other than the second half of Mirza Shaiban. But let me clarify that this collection has nothing to do with Mirza before people start questioning, its Shaiban's story, it always was when I first read it, and it still is when I wanted to sculpt this. Out of all the love stories that get remembered over time, this one was always the one that stumped me. The idea that a woman could sacrifice something through betrayal itself was quite poetic to me. For those of you not familiar with the story I apologise, but those of you who are then you must know that Shaiban walks her lover into a trap of death. She breaks his arrows and doesn't let him fight back, and when he dies at the hands of her brothers, she simply dies along with him. Never has such a character that refused to live happily, ever stumped me to such an extent. To be honest, I found her utterly stupid in what she did, why protect your brothers and instead choose death with your lover? Either she loved her brothers more than she loved her lover, or she had realised that she made a mistake when she ran away with him but died out of guilt. Shibhan's conundrum became my obsession..." He paused and took a breath and then slowly continued, "and far too soon she became too real for me, probably to the point where I realised that I was just as stupid as her. Most men and I included want to envision ourselves as Mirza, the fearless lover who fought till death and was unjustly killed by the betrayal of his love. We love to play the victim and fighter in the same sentence." He laughed at his own irony and subtle sarcasm, "what can we do? It's an engraved thing. But let's be really honest for a second, most of us are actually that whinging Shaiban that couldn't really make up her mind until and after she ran away ended up betraying her lover. What she did is what we men do, we can't make up our minds, and then we let our women take the fall for our mistakes just like Mirza did. Our narratives have become so sexist that we always blame the naivety of a woman as the root of all cause when we know the narrative should be reversed. I think the roles of this story have always been reversed, but we were just too scared to admit it out loud, shunting a woman was and is much easier. Today my collection is my own way of making peace with this, it's not an apology or amending centuries worth of unfairness, it is just art, but it is my art which you will see. So I hope that you can see this collection from the same lens that I do."
As Om stopped speaking the room became pin drop silent, his words echoed and all eyes waited with a held breath to see the first piece. Om stretched out his fingers and pulled the sheet down while he heard the room take in their breath. His first piece was the same figure he was preparing when Janvi came into his room to tell him about Ishaana, it was the only piece he felt was fitting enough for this moment because so much had changed in that one instant.
The piece was of Shaiban, but not how most had seen her. She wasn't sitting casually under a tree with her lover in her lap, but instead this Shaiban was beautiful and fierce firing back red glass arrows while dressed in her bridal attire. In his story, it was Shaiban who was the one fighting off her own brothers, and her lover was nowhere in sight. And that's exactly why Om had clarified that this story wasn't about Mirza, it was about something much bigger, it was really about someone's oppressed identity.
Om's handcrafted glass arrows highlighted the piece's opulence; they were Shaiban's real jewels that brought power to her actions. There was a crystal quality to the work that Om previously believed he would never be able to bring. The cameras that had paused for the duration of his speech suddenly picked up again and began with their flashes, slowly at first but hysterically after. But as that continued he saw something that quite possibly blew his mind. His father who was patiently listening to him abruptly stood up while the photographers continued their own routine. Tej just surprised everyone as he began to clap. What had started off, as a slow clap then became rapid, one that caught onto all the people in the room. And much too soon he could see his father's eyes dripping with what only could be tears. Om wasn't sure how to react, whether to acknowledge or not, but then before he got another moment to deliberate one by one all his family members stood up behind Tej to bring bigger impact to the applause. Soon enough all the guests followed along with the rest of the media heightening the applause to its loudest. It was a standing ovation he never thought he would get, especially from his father, he still wasn't sure how to respond back but then he just bowed his head down and uttered thank you, hoping Tej could notice that it did mean something to him. It was the only thing that seemed fitting regardless of the relationship they shared. But he looked into Tej's eyes once again, and he knew something was different, his eyes appeared genuine for the first time in a very long time, but he didn't know why, though. What had changed now?
All this time Ishaana only breathed slowly, sitting not too far behind the guests she took in every word that Om had to say, but the problem was digesting it. All she knew was that he had only made it harder for her to breath throughout his entire speech. She wondered why would he talk like this? Had he not realised how much he had hurt her?
Ishaana could feel herself becoming feverish, she wanted to strangle Om and make him beg for her forgiveness because she was still desperate for an apology. But all she could see from where she was seated was a man who clearly knew he had made mistakes, yet he didn't want to make any amends because of the effort it would take.
He could talk all he wanted Ishaana thought to herself, it wasn't repairing any damage he had caused, and to a certain extent what he was really doing was just painting her own future to look more undesirable, more incomplete. Om had ruined so much for her that it hurt more knowing that back in college she held her suspicions, but never acted on them and only just ended up hurting herself. She became a fool by not following her own instinct, it was why she never completely opened up to him in their much short lived relationship. She had hoped time would have helped her with that, and instead, Om just shut her up forever with his ending to their story. And she laughed that today he had the audacity to claim that he was the real idiot, and yet never himself made a damn effort to fix his own mistakes.
Ishaana stayed silent even when the questions began, Om answered each to its adequate response. He didn't delve any more into his thought process as if that's all he ever really intended to reveal in public. As the questions finally came down to a close all the guests excitedly got up to explore all of Om's installations that were situated behind the covered space, but she had instead decided to wait. One by one the seats became empty and as soon as she could see the last of Om's family scurrying away deeper into the gallery, she saw it as an opportunity to walk up to him. All this while Om was just amidst gathering his own materials to head in behind everyone else, only to be stopped by her voice.
"You put on quite a good show."Ishaan firmly yet loudly stated.
Om heard the voice at once, his head snapped directly meeting Ishaana's eyes. Her presence completely threw him off, because even if she occupied his mind all this time he still never expected her here with him today.
"This is the last place I expected to see you," he wasn't sure what else to say to her, its the first thing that popped into his mind so he blurted it out.
"I always wanted you to become a successful artist, how could it be the last place that you would expect me?" She wanted to see how he would react, but he didn't, he just smiled back lightly.
"Well thank you for coming, the rest of exhibition is inside if you would like to have a look at all the pieces." He looked back down to gather his paperwork, but Ishaana stood frozen waiting for more.
"Surely you wouldn't mind showing me then?" Omkara felt like he was stumped once again, his eyelids slowly lifted back up to once again reunite with her dead constant gaze.
"I don't think that would be wise Ishaana." And as he said it, her name across his lips he thought that it should've felt foreign, but it didn't, and neither did it feel foreign hearing it.
"And how is that?" Ishaana dared to ask.
Om's gaze refused to move this time, "because I don't know what you want from me, and you're getting married. There really should be no reason for you to come and see me." As if Om had purposely chosen those words to pierce her already broken heart. She reacted the best way she knew how, without thinking where she was, or that if anyone was even still around them she brought her palm forward and smacked it against his cheek loud enough for it to echo. Om felt the pain stung through his cheek onto his entire face, but he stood frozen with his own hand trying to relieve the immediate pain.
Ishaana cleared her throat and brought forward the words she really needed to, "Stop selling lies, you're still as low as you once were." With that, she turned on her heel and walked shockingly into the gallery where Om's displays were, instead of actually exiting and leaving the venue. Today Om was genuinely dumbfounded, what he thought was his attempt at pushing her away had instead just backfired at him in full force.
Guys so that's chapter 5! I know the story has only really heated up but please like and leave behind reviews so I know that there are people reading this story.
Raania.
Edited by Raniaa3 - 9 years ago
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