This update is not great, I had hard time writing it. so if you don't like it I will understand. May be I will finish up the ss in next update....
Humera Chhaya - Part 3
Namya Vijayant Tejas lived for only three weeks; she succumbed to fever…her frail body unable to fight the infection. The shock of her death added to the suffering of Chhaya, who was already ailing from the shock of near death and the premature birth. Vij was unable to console or comfort her as she sought refuge in her soul. Anshulabai did not have patient with Chhaya saying the woman of Tejas house always bore whatever destiny threw at them with courage…the Tejas women were the strength of their men and for a woman to show weakness was to weaken the man.
The days were long and the nights even longer for Chhaya…the recurring nightmares of that night when she plunged the dagger into the man haunted her. She would wake up shivering, drenched in sweat and then curl up tightly and weep herself to sleep. The warming comfort of Vij lying next to her did nothing to comfort her. He would watch her silently not saying a word or touching her. His attempts to comfort her had been rejected previously and he no longer made the attempt. It killed him to stop reaching out to her and the only comfort he derived was when she fell into deep sleep, he could wrap his arms around her gently and fall into sleep.
It was only the nagging of Anshulabai during the day kept Chhaya from drowning in depression. Naitik had a become a handful toddler and needed full time attention. With Vij going away from dawn to dusk, Chhaya had to take care of Naitik. Over three months Chhaya became a shadow of her former self, hallow cheeks and dark circles under her eyes she looked haggard, the lack of not taking care of herself was apparent.
Today Vij arrived home early and walked up to his room. He stood rooted at the doorway and watched as Chhaya eyed the swords hanging on the wall. The bright shiny metal glinted in the sunshine. They were of varying size and design, from light sabres to heavy double edged swords. Chhaya ran her finger along the edge of one of the sabre and rested her hand on the ornate hilt. Her hand clasped around the hilt and she lifted it down and rested it at the side with the tip touching the floor. After few moments she lifted it and tried swinging it. The weight and the awkwardness of the weapon made her movements clumsy. She dropped the sabre and dejectedly walked away and lay down on the bed.
Vij walked in silently and picked up the sabre and put it back in place. Flicking a glance at Chhaya staring blankly at the ceiling he strode out of the room.
Several days later, at night Vij walked into his room and picked up Chhaya and took her out onto the roof. He sat her down on the bed and then from the floor picked up the sabre encase in black and gold leather sheath. He removed the sabre and held it out to her. The blade shone bright under the moonlight, the curved brass hilt was smooth and shiny. Vij had the sabre specially made for her...light enough to handle, yet could be deadly in the arm of a trained warrior. Taking her hand he placed the hilt in her palm and then curved her fingers in a grip. "Yeh tumari liye banawaye. Mei sikhawu isse kaise pracalita kiya jaata hai."
He stood her up and then coming behind her, lifted the sabre high in the air and then with slow deliberate movements he swung the arm in a swift stroke. The air wheezed as the blade cut through it sharply. Chhaya let Vij guide her arm in swift strokes, her eyes darting trying to follow the path of the blade. Couple more strokes and Vij stopped and took the sabre out of her hand put it back in the sheath. Pulling her down on the cot beside him he lay looking down at her closed eyes. A teardrop clung on her closed eyelash and her breath came out in short soft bursts as if she was trying to stem the tide of tear drops from spilling out. Using his thumb he wiped the drops away and enclosed his arms around her. Warm tears escaped his eyes, tears that had never fallen with his daughter's death or at the helplessness he felt whenever he had looked Chhaya. May be now he can help her overcome her grief...make her feel strong...make her forget that she killed someone.
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In the dim glow cast by the lanterns hung around the home, Anshulabai looked disdainfully at the rooftop from where the sounds of swords clashing could be heard. As usual she shook her head and muttered, "Kaun jaane talwar chalane ka shauk laag gaya...bacha ki aur kissiki parwah nahi, bas raat din iska dimaag kahan aur chalta hai." Ever since Vij had taken it upon himself to teach Chhaya to handle the sword, Anshulabai made her annoyance known to her son. What was his wife going to do by learning to fight? She does not pay attention to the child, him or the house. And she let Vij know that she wanted more grandchildren. One child is not enough to keep the lineage going. Women took care of the men and the family...they did not take up arms.
Vij had ignored his mother's bickering. All he knew and cared for was Chhaya's well being and since the day he gave her own sword, she had started to come out of her depression. He wanted more children too, but not at the cost of Chhaya's unhappiness...Namya his little girl had been a spitting image of his Chhaya...the eyes, his little girl had inherited those mesmerizing eyes.
Until Chhaya got tired Vij gave her his undivided attention, showing her...helping her to master the blade, both offensive and defensive moves. He explained to her how to concentrate on the movement of his opponent, to watch for slight move of the eyes, the wrist, and the feet so as to understand what his next move would be. You did not need only strength to beat your opponent, the one who is left standing is the one who can predict the opponent's move and defend one's self effectively. Slowly before his eyes, Vij saw his patience with her being rewarded. With gaining strength and stamina, Chhaya mastered the blade and could now easily fight for several minutes without pausing with Vij. Chhaya tried to search for reasons why she felt the need to master the sword...it would not bring her dead child back...it was not going to change the fact that she had killed in order to survive herself. But when she held the sword now, she felt as if she was not powerless...that she could control her destiny.
The passing months flew by and with it time dimmed the events past. Time came for Vij to visit the courts to get the selected few enrolled in the royal army, even he himself needed to reacquaint himself with his peers. Chhaya had insisted he let her accompany him, but Vij had to dissuade, he couldn't let her come with him...who would look after Naitik and his mother with both of them gone. It was only a question of one or two months and then he would be back.
Vij was not there when Prabhavati was born. The months had passed by and Vij had not returned. Chhaya had lived each with the hope of his return and now the months slipped by and that hope had diminished, resigning herself to live alone with the children. Age was catching up with Anshulabai and her mobility and her memory was diminishing. An odd traveller would bring of Vij's wellbeing occasionally and Chhaya consoled herself that at least he was still alive and may be one day her children may see their father's face.
To be continued…….
Ye Hai Mohabbatein
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