A/N; To be completely honest, I shouldn't even be on this site right now, much less pen something down and post it here. I have my exams in fifteen days and to say that I am running behind schedule would be an understatement. But what can I say? We are all slaves to our pens, I guess. Although the narrative is linear, it isn't continuous. It jumps quite a lot with regards to time.
P.S. This is almost 3000 words, so it's going to be a little lengthy.
P.P.S. I haven't proofread it, so I apologize in advance for all the mistakes you might find.
Sink or Swim : A Shivika One-Shot
They were careless people...they smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made.'
F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby.
It was Rudra's fault. Or maybe even Om's. If she stretched her over active imagination and completely suspended reality, maybe she could even get away with blaming Tej Oberoi. Honestly, she'd prefer blaming anyone other than Shivaay Singh Oberoi.
Everything had been going fine. She was on the phone with the flower decorator, yelling at him about the mix-up with roses and lilies. Pinky aunty almost had an epileptic shock when she had realised that a truckload of roses had been delivered to the mansion. Didn't the decorator know that roses were so passe? Didn't he know that it was the wedding of the Oberoi khandaan ka chirag? What face was she going to show to her socialite friends? The Oh-my-mata's hadn't stopped for an hour. Annika had rushed to take care of the new disaster that had cropped up that day. Already, the caterers had contacted them about the mishap with the cake. It would now be a seven tier vanilla with chocolate frosting instead of the original chocolate with vanilla frosting. To say that Tia had not been happy would be an understatement. She still had to take care of the last minute fittings on Tia's choli, check the lightings on the dance floor and clear an area for the guests to deposit their gifts. She was exhausted. And she couldn't have been happier.
After all, each passing moment helped her remember her reality. Annika had never dreamed about her wedding. She never caught onto the fanciful notions that plague girls all over the world from the moment they are read their first fairy tale. She prided herself on being different. While other girls played with dolls and their imagined domesticity, Annika dreamed about warm food and a roof that didn't leak. When other girls started dating, Annika had baby Sahil to take care of. And when other women dreamed of conjugal bliss, Annika was fighting for Sahil's legal rights. She had big dreams for herself. She wanted to earn a name in the world. She was perceptive enough to realise that her obsession with her pehchaan stemmed from her insecurities regarding her true parentage. That didn't change the fact that she wanted an identity that did not rest its hind legs on her last name. And okay, maybe working for the Oberois hadn't been a good idea personally but nobody could deny it was a smart professional decision. She now had connections and a rapidly expanding customer base. Surely, this was the first step to achieve her dreams. And she really hoped she doesn't fail in this, like she has failed so many times before.
So this sudden raw, visceral animal attraction to Shivaay Singh Oberoi was as much as a surprise for her as it was for him. To be perfectly honest, Shivaay was not her type. She wasn't even sure if she had a type. Shivaay was the complete anti-thesis of everything that she believed in. He would put all his eggs in the basket titled family, bloodline, and prestige while she wouldn't even be able to afford the said basket. And okay, yes, his protectiveness regarding his family was admirable, but his complete neglect of anyone who didn't bear the Oberoi name wasn't. He was painfully attractive with his designer suits and head full of hair gel with not a single strand out of place, while she...she was just Annika. Not even a last name to diminish the chasm that separated them.
Yet, she kept on finding herself in situations that needed him rescuing her and, for the most of the time, her rescuing him. But really, what was she supposed to do? Not help him? Let him go to jail? Or let Tej and Shakti uncle go to jail? And if she was being completely honest, it had felt good to be a part of something, even if she knew that she was just an outsider. It felt good to be appreciated and be told that she now had a pseudo family.
So, she let it happen. When she slipped and fell onto Shivaay, and he held on for just a moment longer, she let him. When they got drunk during the party and he danced with her, she let him. When he stopped her by holding her wrist and pulling her to him, she let him. If she was being honest, she was an equal participant in the tug of war going on between them. She anticipated his next move, ready to hold onto the rope or let go, giving him takkar ka competition.
She didn't bother with the why of exposing Tia. She just knew that she couldn't let Shivaay marry her. He deserved someone much better than a manipulative rich gold-digging socialite, and wasn't that an oxymoron. People with money, clawing and biting and tearing lives apart for a chance of a little more money. The fact never stopped astounding her.
She knew that he would be hard to convince. She knew he would shout and scream and take his anger out on her. She had been ready for that, had mentally prepared herself to forgive him even if he never apologised because, well, when had he ever? What she hadn't expected was that cold calculating voice telling Om that she was a gold digger. Like he wasn't angry about it. Like it was nothing surprising to him, like it was just a fact that he knew of. Like he hadn't expected any better of her.
So she did what she did best. She put her survivor face on and decided to move on. She ran around the mansion preparing for his Sangeet and Haldi and Mehendi. He had tried to corner her once or twice but thankfully nobody in this big family could function without her so she always had an excuse for running off. He understood that she was trying to avoid him. She knew that. She just didn't care anymore. She decided she hated him. She lied.
The fairy lights had nothing on Tia the bride. She looked resplendent in a red lehenga and although Annika hated herself for it, even she couldn't take her eyes off of her. That lasted a whole two minutes until the groom made an entry. He was in a cream sherwani with an emerald chain and a royal off-white safa. He looked every inch the aristocrat he was probably a descendant of. His blue eyes took in Tia and he gave her his hard-to-come-by smile. She turned around and searched for another disaster to fix.
It was after the varmala. Om and Rudra had been eyeing her ever since Shivaay had made an entry. They smiled at her with pity in their eyes and in that moment, she hated them a little too. She felt like she was being suffocated, like she was drowning, like somebody was snatching away Sahil. When Shivaay put the garland around Tia's neck, she flinched like someone had punched her. Om was standing right beside her so she decided she would brave this like she had braved all the other things in her life and squared her shoulders. Om said something about Scarlet O'Hara and Tara and how tomorrow was another day, but she didn't understand what he was going on about. And she never got an opportunity to ask because at that precise moment, Shivaay Singh Oberoi's blue aristocratic eyes found her.
He had been smiling at something one of the guests had said and as he looked at her, it seemed like the smile had stuck on his face. His gaze scorched her with unanswered questions and unfulfilled promises and a glimpse of an impossible future. It was then that his smile collapsed on itself, like an old building crumbles to dust after it has lived on for too long and born too many secrets. He looked like his foundation had just shattered and he had no idea where to even start looking for his old pieces in this recent pile of destruction of his beliefs. He looked lost. It was then that she left.
The first year after his wedding was nothing. It was a literal blank. She didn't even remember some of the months. She still had Sahil but he was at the boarding school for most of the year and she was alone. She didn't take up any other projects with regards to her event management business because all of her new customers knew the Oberois in one way or another. She had learned the hard way that she wasn't ready to see any of them anytime soon. Om and Rudra had tried to contact her for a few months before they finally got the message. Prinku had been firmly but politely told that she, Annika, wanted to take some time out for herself so as to figure out her life. Prinku had looked on with tear shed eyes and nodded her head in understanding. She had left with a kiss to the cheek and a promise to wait until Annika was ready to have her friend back again. Shivaay had called a total of seventeen times that year. She never picked up.
The second year was better. Sahil had moved back home because the boarding school just wasn't for him but she knew that he was worried about her. She had pulled up her socks and got on with life. Her business didn't attract lucrative clients anymore and she had to work extra hard to get clients but she was happy managing the events regular people with regular lives. She even employed Bhua as her manager so that Sahil was not bothered. A year in the boarding school had really done him some good and she didn't want to pull him back to the same dirt again. Surprisingly, it turned out that Bhua loved the sense of independence that came with earning your living and was a pretty competent employee. Days, sometimes even weeks passed before she thought of the Oberois.
The third year was difficult. She came home to Om waiting on her doorstep with his wedding invitation in his hand. She had tackled him in a hug and was surprised to find that she had missed him more than she could articulate. He had held her tight until she had gasped that she couldn't breathe. He stayed for four hours. She asked about his fiance"a photographer whom he had met at an art exhibit in London"and wasn't that just perfect? Rudra, apparently, was the happiest as he now had an in house photographer to click his pictures and eternalise his handsomeness. An incident about Rudra, a request for au natural photo-shoot and Om with a broom had her in stiches. She came to know that Saumya and Rudra had recently started dating and she felt genuine pleasure at the news. She hoped that they made it. He never talked about Shivaay and she never asked. He left with a poem about love and regrets and lost chances. She ignored him because, really, what's love got to do with it anyway? On the day of Om's wedding, she texted him to apologise because she couldn't make it. She told him she was out of town on an event schedule. She lied.
The fourth year was consciously busy. She was at work a lot, staying late every night, only going to bed when her body gave up on her. The newspapers were filled with the scandal of the divorce of the eldest Oberoi heir and his wife. There had been an interview with Robin who had finally gotten tired of standing in the shadows. He had spilled the beans about Tia's first marriage and her subsequent divorce just to marry into the Oberoi family. How Tia had completely fooled Shivaay Singh Oberoi and carried on with her first husband right under his nose for years on end. It was a media shit storm and every turn she took, she was accosted with a new development in the controversy of the decade. She decided not to renew her cable connection and took up reading in her free time. She wanted to feel vindicated but all she felt was a deep sadness for somebody that she once knew. She had been on the site when she had heard an intern gossip about how the divorce was finally granted. She had been off kilter the whole day. The calls had started a month after the divorce. Why she never deleted his name from her phone, she didn't know. All she knew was she couldn't afford to get sucked into the tempest that was Shivaay Singh Oberoi again, so she never picked up. This time, the calls didn't stop.
The fifth year, she met him. It started with another Oberoi sibling waiting for her. This time, it was Rudra with another wedding invitation. He refused to come inside and asked her to pack her bag. He was getting married in two days and she was to come with him to the Oberoi mansion to be a part of the festivities. He very distinctly told her that he wasn't Om who would let her do as she wished and bury his hurt in a poem. Rudra wouldn't move from her doorstep until she came with him. She really had no choice, or that's what she told herself as she climbed into his car as he drove off at full speed towards Oberoi Mansion.
They all were waiting for her as she crossed the threshold. There were tears from Dadi and yelling from Pinky aunty for deserting them so abruptly. Jhanvi aunty just hugged her and she even saw Tej uncle get a little emotional as he welcomed her home. Home. She hated herself for it, but she did feel like she was back home. She never saw Shivaay.
The first time she sees him is at the Sangeet. She had planned on getting drunk because she knew she would come face to face with him. So far, she had avoided him by being holed up in her room. His daily phone calls, one a day, had stopped abruptly since yesterday. Like he had just been waiting for her to come to him. He made his way straight to her the moment he spotted her. She was standing with Om, laughing at one of his stories about Rudra and Saumya. He was still a little hurt but he was Om and he understood. She watched as Shivaay made a beeline for her, stopping on the way as he was being accosted by the guests, greeting them and hugging them until he finally reached her. He looked at her and moved forward to hug her until he stopped himself and just turned and left. She watched him go, vaguely aware of Om saying something on the lines of how he loves her because he never touches her and she drained her glass of wine.
She was waiting by the poolside. She knew he would come. She wanted him to come. She was tired of five years of pain and longing and avoidance and denial. She wanted her life back. She wanted closure, one way or another.
I...I am sorry.'
She was surprised. He only hesitated once before apologising.
I know,' she answers back robotically.
He closed his eyes and ran a hand down his face, as if gathering courage.
I wasn't ready, Annika. I wasn't ready for your doubts about Tia, for your zest for life, to question my beliefs. I wasn't ready for you, Annika.'
She closed her eyes and let his apologies and explanations soothe her like a balm to her soul that she didn't even know she needed. She let him talk as he told her about his disastrous marriage and the coldness that invaded his body each day for the past five years. She soothed him as he sobbed about the lost years and missed chances and his sheer, sheer stupidity and arrogance. She wiped his tears as he promised her a future filled with happiness if she only took a chance on him. She looked into his eyes as he professed his love for her. She took him into her arms as she explained to him that this time, she wasn't ready. She wasn't sure that she would ever be ready. She looked at him with surprise as he just smiled at her confession before pulling something out of his pocket, a folded paper, before depositing it in her palms. And she could only stand still as he gently brushed his lips against her before he wiped away her tears and left her on the poolside, alone to grapple with the new feelings coursing through her body and a folded parchment.
She opened it in a daze, may be looking for a distraction or may be looking for answers, she didn't know what. What she found, was peace. She smiled and went to her room, planning to get a good night's sleep. She had to be well rested if she planned to dance in Rudra's baraat, after all.
The paper laid there, on the side table, the moonlight filtering its dark marks. For some, it wouldn't be much. For them, it was hope.
Out of the rolling ocean the crowd came a drop gently to me,
Whispering, I love you, before long I die,
I have travell'd a long way merely to look on you to touch you,
For I could not die till I once look'd on you,
For I fear'd I might afterward lose you.
Now we have met, we have look'd, we are safe,
Return in peace to the ocean my love,
I too am part of that ocean, my love, we are not so much separated,
Behold the great rondure, the cohesion of all, how perfect!
But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us,
As for an hour carrying us diverse, yet cannot carry us diverse forever;
Be not impatient - a little space - know you I salute the air, the ocean and the land,
Every day at sundown for your dear sake, my love.
-Walt Whitman.
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Advocate Anjali Awasthi
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