OS : Tum Pukar Lo ...

Ragini walked towards his room, treading carefully, a near lukewarm glass of turmeric milk in her hand. This was the second storey of the bungalow in the farmhouse. During their previous visits on various occasions, they had never been to this floor, to this part of the house. RK had told her once that following the death of their parents in a car accident many years ago, both Karan and he had taken a conscious decision not to allow access to guests to this floor, though the rooms were regularly cleaned, aired and maintained.

While they were alive, this floor had belonged to Karan and RK's parents, when the entire Farmhouse teemed with their relatives, friends and guests, for one occasion or the other. The Kapoors had built the Farmhouse with lots of love and care - following their death, their sons had modernised the other areas of the Farmhouse but had left the second floor nearly untouched.

Ragini looked all around as she made her way towards his room, taking in the beautiful framework and simple antique woodwork that adorned the passage.

Needless to say, she had been surprised when he had not chosen his usual room on their arrival to the Farmhouse. She had noticed him speaking quietly to Karan and Dimpy, and that was it. It was late at night that Sunny Tai had informed her that he had picked up a guest room in the topmost floor of the bungalow, citing the need for an extra room once Jignesh turned up.

Ragini knew. He had started the process of distancing himself from her life. And understandably so.

As she approached the room, her heart in her mouth, she almost panicked, almost wishing that she had not come up there.

I should have let Sunny Tai come up, as he had requested for. Maybe I should not intervene ...' she thought. The very next moment, her heart cried out

How could I think so? He needs some caring too ...Maybe, he does'

Caught in a myriad of thousand emotions running through her, Ragini stopped. She could see the a sliver of light from the room falling onto the dimly lit corridor, illuminating it hauntingly.

And then, she heard the soft melodies of an old Hindi song floating across, out of the room. She strained her ears to catch the lyrics, but the volume was tuned in pretty low. He loved old Hindi songs, she knew, and had a good collection. And often carried some of his favourites with himself, even on tours.

Emboldened and curious, she walked towards the room. Reaching the open door, she peered inside ...

He was nowhere to be seen.

She squinted her eyes to see better, given that the room was lit by a sole low powered bulb, located towards the wooden lattice framework, separating the room into early two halves.

Willing herself to step in, she froze as the music player started looping in the next song, the words crooning through her ears into her heart ...

Tum pukaar lo

Tumhara intezaar hai ...

She stopped, one feet inside the room. This song ... HIS song. The song that he had sung to her countless times every time he missed her; every time he professed his love for her. And that was almost like every day of their lives together.

Khwaab chun rahi hai raat,

Beqaraar hai

Tumhara intezaar hai ...

Emotions seemed to paralyse her very being; Ragini felt as if she was free falling - she felt rudderless. Oh how she hated this song! How she had tried to erase this song from her memory all these years, albeit unsuccessfully.

She cursed herself for visiting the kitchen that very moment when Sunny Tai was preparing the turmeric milk for him. Sunny Tai had told her then that she had found him in the kitchen warming the milk up. Apparently, he had sprained his ankle during their walk through the forest to the medical store. He had not realised then that the sprain would hurt him bad later. Sunny Tai had offered to prepare the turmeric milk for him instead and take it up to his room. He had nodded and had wordlessly returned to his room.

Ragini had offered to take up the glass of milk to his room instead, intrigued by his eloquent silence; his bridled participation in everything that was happening around him, yet with guarded reticence on his part.

Sensing a slight movement in the farthest corner of the room, towards the overhanging balcony, Ragini's senses came back, engulfing her very soul.

Honth pe liye huye, dil ki baat hum

Jaagtey rahengey aur kitni raat hum

Mukhtasar si baat hain, tumse pyaar hain

Tumhara intezaar hain ...

He was there in the balcony, gazing out into the night. Already dressed in his night robe, his hands tucked in his pockets, he was looking out ... his shoulders straight and proud.

His posture hardly belying the implosion of emotions happening within him.

He seemed to be deeply engrossed in his thoughts.

She knew what he was thinking; she knew what she needed to do. But she hardly knew how to do it anymore. A stranger to her own feelings, confusions and emotions, Ragini thought hard whether it was prudent to leave him alone. For the night, at least.

All she wanted though, at that moment, was to rush into his arms, hug him close and tell him that his wait his over. If only ...

Dil bahel to jaayega iss khayal se

Hal mil gaya tumhara apne haal se

Raat yeh qaraar ki beqaraar hai

Tumhara intezaar hain ...

Walking over to the centre table, Ragini kept the glass of milk down and covered it. Unknowing to herself, she took a few steps towards the centre of the room. Her eyes sought out the made up bed, ready to help him embrace slumber - the neatly stacked up suitcase by the wardrobe; some of his essentials placed on the armoire - the room, it seemed, reeked of too much of meticulous involvement; a clinical detachment.

This is not the same person she had known over the years. The careless, happy go lucky person, his belongings like his vibrant personality, all strewn across and shared liberally with others.

She instinctively knew what this was all about.

This was a new beginning for him - a beginning that would never end. A beginning that would never yield any solutions. A beginning towards a life characterised by thoughts, memories and emotions. A life without her, without hope.

And this was the turbulence in which he was lost forever. Circumstances, she could probably never rectify ever.

A life that her Nachiket had finally managed to embrace and accept. Too lonely, yet too proud to even share his hurt with anybody.

As the song ended and a newer strain started, Ragini stepped out of the room, unaware of the tears blinding her way. She grappled her way through the corridor, only to sink down in front of the staircase leading her downstairs.

Downstairs - a place where she chooses to be away from him; from her turbulent love for him; from her messed up feelings; from her emotional chaos; from everything that defined her. Completely opposite to what she had begrudgingly chosen for herself. A star crossed Life.

Away from Her Nachiket !

...

END