chehra mera tha nigahen us ki
khamoushi main bhi wo baten us ki
mere chehre pe ghazal likhti gain
sher kahti hui ankhen us ki
shokh lamhon ka pata dene lagin
tez hoti hui sansen us ki
aise mausam bhi guzare ham ne
subhen jab apni theen shamain us ki
faisla mauj-e-hawa ne likha
aandhiyan meri thi, baharein uski
nind is soch se tuti aksar?
kis tarah katati hain raten us ki
dur rah kar bhi sada rahti hai mujh ko
thame hue bahen us ki
-Parveen Shakir
Khushi sat up in bed, and stretched a sweaty hand to the nightstand. She took the glass of water that sat there and sipped it slowly. "What madness was this?", she mused. 5 days since he'd been gone. 5 nights filled with dreams so real that her brain could no longer separate the two clearly. Her tired mind buzzed with vivid, mixed, technicolor images that were as true as they were a figment of her imagination. She felt his eyes constantly following her. As she folded clothes. As she played with Lakshmi. His gaze upon her as she dried her hair. When she spoke to Di. When she served him breakfast. When she just sat there, outside her home in the evening, when the electricity left them temporarily, as it was wont to do in Laxmi Nagar. He barely blinked. He never spoke. He just looked as if he was a thirsty man, and she an oasis. Prickles of awareness ran up her spine. She was always intensely uncomfortable when he looked at her like this. Like he needed her. It made her breath catch in her throat. It made her forget he was Laad Governor and she his wife-by-force, not choice. All she wanted was for time to stand still and let her soak that moment in. By the poolside at Diwali had been over too quickly. She had curled her fingers into her sari, gripping it tight. Her eyes had closed, as he cupped her face and bent towards her. But his lips had never touched hers. And the moment was gone. She wanted that moment back. She would give anything to have that moment back.
Dreams of chilly nights by the poolside where she'd slept all alone haunted her. She'd never felt more alone. She hated him for casting her off so casually. She hated that the chill enveloping her heart had masked the numbness in her feet. He'd taken so much away. A girl's wedding night was not meant to be spent in isolation. Hers' had been the loneliest night of her life. And when she woke from those dreams her thoughts were only of him. Had he eaten? Had he slept? Had he taken his medicines? Was he well? Those 3 words had been spoken and could not be unsaid. And yet they left her feeling more restless than ever. She wished he hadn't said them. Because now, her dreams invariably ended in his arms. And when she woke, he wasn't there. She was still as alone as the night he'd thrown her out of his room. She couldn't bring herself to call it their room. Nothing was hers. Not until he gave it to her willingly. His heart she held in safekeeping; his words had given her a fragile hope. For the rest, she would wait. Khushi slipped back under the covers and willed sleep to take over her tired brain. She preferred sleepy dreams to rude wakefulness. In her dreams at least, they met.
Kuch rishtey toote-toote sey
Kuch saathi chootey-chootey sey
Kuch bigdi-bigdi tasveerein
Kuch dhundhli-dhundhli tehreerein
Kuch aansoo chalke-chakle se
Kuch moti dhalke-dhalke se
Kuch naksh ye hairan-hairan se
Kuch aks ye larza-larza se
Kuch ujadi-ujadi duniyaein
Kuch bhatki-bhatki aashayein
Kuch bikhre-bikhre sapne hain
Ye gair nahin, sab apne hain
Mat roko inhe paas aane do
Ye mujhe milne aaye hain
Main khud na jinhe pehchaan sakoon
Kuch aise dhundhlae saaye hain
-From Aakhri Mulaqat by Jaan Nissar Akhtar
Arnav struggled to clear his head of the mists that swirled in them. He'd passed out more than once. He no longer knew how long he'd been held captive. He was tired. His head hurt. His hands chafed from being bound. And while his brain told him to try and figure out how to escape, his heart only knew one thing. He loved her and he'd told her. He wished he hadn't. It had slipped out when he heard her soft sobs on the phone. At that moment he figured he'd die with a little less on his conscience if he revealed his true feelings to her. Now he felt it would have been kinder to let her think he hated her. She would have less trouble moving on. Moving on. The words stuck in his throat. He knew she must. Indeed, he willed her to. And he hoped there was no afterlife for him to suffer through. To see her with someone else, happy, fulfilled and loved. Arnav's peculiar brand of selfish love couldn't bear the thought. The sight was out of the question. And yet, he had given her nothing but pain and tears. He deserved no less, and she, she deserved much much better. He had a single pearl that he'd torn from her the day they'd met rolling around in his pocket. He didn't know why he'd put it there, but he had. A macabre reminder of his unforgivable behavior. He felt that pearl floating around in his pocket every time he moved. Pearls were for tears. How apt, he thought grimly. He wondered how she was. Whether she was wearing that orange suit with the purple dupatta. He liked that one. It suited her, the bright colors. Just like browns and grays suited him. He hoped she wasn't panicking too much, now that he'd reassured her. He tried not to think of how she would react when the news reached her. He didn't want to go there. He wanted to stay with her. By the poolside. She in his arms. Their hearts beating as one. Arnav didn't fight the clouds enveloping his brain. He embraced the oblivion. It gave him the breather he needed to cope with the stark reality that stared him in the face. He would never see her again.
Be gentle peeps. đ
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