phhandooh at: a phhandooh-of-my-own, pg.89 - Page 38

😲

i've already got a long list of people berating me -- mother, a prem-crazy pal, the religious head of the entire western civilisation, an entire phrebel phorce (kimz, shabz, ravz). and now a bharatiya-nari??!

great, just what i needed! *although i must admit -- i just drew a picture of that list above in my head running after me and i'm totally 🤣-ing all over my bedroom floor!*

*sigh* pcp .... like there aren't enough other communciation channels for you to harass me, you had to find another one!! 😆

ooh! orders from the highest ''above'' i know. *shiver* do i really have to?? *fighting to keep the whine out of my voice*

and btw, that reminds me -- when are you putting up the next mht update??! i've been dying to know what happens next... like, forever! *doing the near-impossible task of bending low before her worship while simultaneously tapping my feet in impatience, all the while wondering how to get pcp to shift attention to bugging you instead of me! gee! can i multi-task well or what?? 😆*

and btw, no more shouting at me -- i'll do a separate post for the story.

after i watch the shows of the week, and see if i wanna put up a wtf.... deal? 😃

heer cut a strangely graceful figure as she hurried through the crowds toward the garden. the portfolio bag stuck far out at a right angle, which would have meant a balancing act for most people as they strode at her pace. but she made it look easy, as if it was part of her. but then, people with a purpose rarely looked awkward as they moved. heer had been born with a purpose, and that purpose was to capture the magic she could see and feel in the world around her. the tools of her craft were the material in that portfolio bag, and they were an extension of who she was.

part of her confidence came from how people responded to what she did, ''her work''. but most of it had been tethered those who had nurtured her and her purpose. ever since she had started painting what she observed of the world, her long almond shaped eyes absorbing things avidly, her father had encouraged her to focus all her passion into her art. his support, along with the adoration of her mother and baby sister, had been the cloud that she lived on, floating aloft, blind to anything that was dark or hurtful. her cocoon of safety, firm and constant. until one day a strange twist of fate had taken that love away, leaving her blind and lost in a dark limbo.

until the day that she found purpose again in that unfinished structure in a garden by a brownstone. the garden with the ''home-of-light'' as she called it inside her mind. she had never thought to feel again, wonder again, enough to want paint again. but she was learning the biggest truth about life -- that life struggles to continue no matter what. despite the heart nearly bleeding with hurt, it continued to beat. despite her not wanting to, she continued to breath. and no matter how much she fought it, there was something around the corner to bring purpose to live again.

heer lengthened her stride. as always, she was on fire till she completed a project. she turned around the last corner -- just a few more steps and... her feet came to a abrupt halt, her breath strangling itself in her throat. the garden was still there, next to the brownstone. the structure was beginning to glow in the rays of the rising sun, the columns turning pink from the tops, the rhododendrons blushing even deeper on their branches above. but instead of seeing it through the bars of the gate, she could see it clear through, for today, the gate stood open.

she stood still for a moment, waiting for the world to correct itself and for the gate to be shut. she blinked a few times, and looked again -- the gate was still open. now her breath started coming fast and hard. oh, to go close to that magical structure, to actually touch the surface, to find out whether there was a heat that came with the glow. she moved forward through the morning crowds, and in silently through the gate, dropping her portfolio at the foot of the bushes just inside.

it was like entering a new world. her sneakers sank in the luxurious lawn, her fingers felt the cooler air, already the perfume of the magnolia wafted around her, assaulting her senses. but her eyes were fixed on the structure. she supressed the urge to run to touch it.

up close, she saw the skeletal super-structure of beams stand out, stark against the white stone of the unfinished wall and columns, the beginnings of the steeple/dome, the overhead beams standing out like spears, without the supporting columns at the end. all around one end was the tumble of stone and more beams, stretching upto at the foot of an old oak tree. a corner and the edge of the back was nearly done. it tempted her, that dark corner. she suddenly needed to know whether the glow remained even when the space was enclosed by the stone.

heer had to duck low to walk into the main section. but once in, she found that she could stand between the cross-beams. she made a beeline for the corner, her left hand raised, trailing the cross-beams, along the edge of the wall. the stone insulated her from the sounds of the street. the light was just beginning to stream through the clouds and the trees lining the fence. the stone was beginning to glow from the inside, the arch of the incomplete roof slowly lighting up, white against the brown of the beams. she rested her face in the corner. the stone was cold and quiet against her forehead -- it was so peaceful. she felt she could stay there forever.

it took a while for the voices that drifted into her corner to penetrate. voices -- people in the garden! men from the sounds of it. whatever heer wanted to find from the home-of-light could wait. she had never been one for the company of the strangers, especially when she was working. and this was especially awkward -- she did not even have permission to be there. she moved swiftly, her head bent.

which was probably why she ran head-first into a warm sweat-slicked bare chest. startled off balance by the knock, her head jarred by the knock, her feet stumbling among the planks of wood he dropped, she threw out her hands to steady herself and found herself clutching onto bare arms and shoulders. startled, she lifted her head, hair slipping out of the neat clips at the side, and looked into deep dark eyes looking fiercely down at her. eyes, deepset between a beaked nose, shaded by furrowed brows.

''what the...?'' his arms gripped her. ''are you alright? yes? '' then as those fierce eyes traced out her features, the brows furrowed even more. ''who are you? preet didn't mention anyone was in yet.'' he threw a look over his shoulder. ''preet? preet!'' his voice resonated through her. and...

she panicked. she yanked out of his arms, taking advantage of his momentary distraction, pushing him hard so that he stumbled backward. she ran. ''hey!'' his voice was startled. she threw a look over her shoulder, to see that he was beginning to dash after her, and sped up through the gate.

she didn't stop running until she had reached the metro and had gone through the gates. but it was only when she reached home, that she realised that she had left her portfolio behind. that night, she was quiet and distracted through all of gayatri's chatter through dinner. heer knew she had to go back; she just needed a strategy. but lying in her bed that night, it was not the strategy that she dreamt of, but of dark, deep-set eyes set over high cheekbones, the steel under the velvet-covered arms and the unfamiliar tingle that flooded her when she remembered what it felt like to glide her palms over those arms.

my spot! 😛 Shall be edited asap!

E I'm gonna comment on all this when you're done writing😆

your worship! 😆: well, i used the technicality to swing chapter 4 into your b'day post -- didja see?? 'cause it has preet -- and i wanted him to show up in your b'day post first!

sometimes, an intelligent use of ''technicalities'' can be good, na? 😆

meera -- so? d'you still think it's a decent b'day gift? 😳

ravz! 😆 warning -- that's gonna take a while... sure you don't wanna blast me right away? there's 4 chapters worth of rotten tomatoes to throw... 😆

Decent? 😲 No ways! *hmph* It's more than decent! 😃 It's perfect E! 😃