Part 1 - page 1 - Ragini's Emotions
Memories ...
Apart from love, fear is the most inexplicable feeling in the world. No two people love the same way, no two people have exactly the same fear. They may fear the same thing, but their reaction to it is totally different.
...
Somewhere in Mumbai
Midnight
My eyes snap open. Turning, I look at the clock, it is just 2 am. I blink and then screw my eyes up wondering why I have woken this early.
Then I hear it.
The rain. It is pelting against the window and cascading down the window panes like a waterfall. It seems never ending and then there is a bright flash of lightening and overhead a clap of thunder.
And yet, above it all I hear him whisper my name.
Nachiket.
I throw back the comforter and rush towards the bed in the centre of the room. Since our marriage, we have been acting together as a happy couple but behind the closed doors at night, the reality creeps in every time. Without fail. While I have urged him to take the bed, suitable for his taller frame, I have have more or less confined my destiny to sleep in the couch forever.
He is up, his hands covering his face. I try hard not to look as desperate as I feel when I reach him. There is sweat pouring from him but he is shivering. A bad dream I think.
There really is very little I can say to him, and, I suspect as regular an occurrence when he is at home. All alone. That's why I suppose he tries *to drink* himself to sleep. But before I have time to say anything he slumps into my arms.
"Nachiket? Are you okay?"
Silence.
His arms are tight around me, holding on to that thin thread of sanity, his head is down on my shoulder, his breathing laboured and I hear him saying he's sorry.
"I'm sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. Bad dream?"
He just nods and nestles closer into me. I can feel his warmth encircling me and then he begins to shiver again. I tighten my hold on him but it doesn't seem to work. He is shaking, either with cold or with fear, or both.
Trying to soothe him, I loosen my grip on him and stroke his hair back from his forehead. It is stuck with the wetness of his sweat and his eyes are shut tight. And now on top of everything, he's tensed just a little. He is getting it back under control and pushing me away.
It was then that the storm broke.
Before we heard the clap of thunder there was an enormously bright flash of lightening which illuminated the small dark room. He jumps and clings on to me like a frightened child. Deep down, emotionally, that is what he is. A frightened child trying to be a man. When he draws back from me I can see the terror in his eyes that the heavy rainfall had triggered. My heart flips.
The light reminded him of that night. The night we we went our own ways. Sixteen years back. With the children divided between ourselves. It had rained like crazy that night. My own tears and heartbreak had overwhelmed that rain. I am sure it had been the same for him as well. We both had died that night and two different individuals had taken birth, marked eternally for loneliness.
As soon as he sees that realisation in my eyes he pulls away completely and I know I have lost him.
Again.
Another clap of thunder and then another bright flash. He winces and I put my hand out to comfort him. He doesn't pull away. Perhaps. Just perhaps.
"You know Nachiket, I used to be scared of the rain when I was little. The thunder made me jump and I used to be in awe of the lightening, but the rain scared me."
"What did you do?" he asks.
Though I couldn't believe I was having this conversation with him in the middle of the night, but at least he's speaking to me.
"I used to call Dad." Why did I tell him that? He wouldn't have called his Dad anyway, who was busy making money somewhere. And he probably wouldn't have been there or even come to him if he had. His Mom had passed away earlier.
"Oh." He sounds passive, disinterested, but then he looks directly at me, realizing my loss and asks, "What had he used to do?"
I had always grieved for my Dad since he passed away when I was only 12 years old.
Before I realize what I'm doing I slip my arms around him, he draws back a little, but reassuringly, for me, not too much.
"He would come and hold me. Like this." I encircle him with my arms again.
"Did you like that?" There is a hint of sorrow and just the slightest tinge of jealousy in his voice.
"It was warm and safe and because he wasn't always around it was all the more precious."
"I can understand that." He nods his head.
"Then he'd stay with me till morning. He'd pull me into his arms like this and I'd rest my head on his chest." The words were coming out from me and the actions to match them were being mirrored by him. He had slid down a bit and was now resting his head against my shoulder and I was stroking his hair.
"What did he do then?" It was like a twelve year old boy speaking now. That tinge of wonderment in the voice, as if you were in the middle of telling him a story and he wanted to know what happened on the next page before this one was finished.
"He would tell me to go to sleep and then he'd kiss my head, just like this and he would say, I love you."
I feel his body start and hear him swallow hard and then the dam breaks. He sobs as I hold him as tightly as my small frame will allow. Still I hear him continually telling me he is sorry. Sorry for what? Sorry for being human, for having feelings, having fears?
It takes some time before he is sufficiently composed to speak and all the time I soothe him with my arms, murmuring to him, stroking his back, comforting him. I feel an immense sense of relief wash over me. I have, in a roundabout fashion, told him how I feel. Told him I love him.
"Thank you" he says at last.
"For what?"
He doesn't answer me for some time and then he turns to look at me.
"You have to be a very special person, to love someone, when you can see all of their fears. To be able to help them through the night."
Did he mean me? No. He didn't --- did he?
I could be special, God knows. Almost as special as you are. I wish I could tell you that.
As I sit here beside you terrified that what I feel is unique and non-returnable. That you see me as someone to trust and someone to lean on when you need it. Then you ditch me and I feel betrayed again. But I still have these feelings for you, they never leave me, they burn within me, finding no release. I think you needed to hear that I loved you. I think I needed to hear me say that I loved you. But how do you want me to be? Whichever role you want me to play though, I still think that you need me. And that is enough for now to make me feel special.
"Thanks again." He smiles at me now.
Perhaps this time he'll say what I want to hear as I ask, "What for?"
"Helping me through the night."
He tightens his arms around me and kisses the top of my head.
I think I hear him murmur I love you.
I know that's what I want to hear.
The End
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