ff: ''a many splendoured thing', update pg. 102 - Page 10

a few hours later, heer stood at the window of her apartment staring at nothing in particular. two days ago, she had planned to spend the day walking along the same route that preet had taken her when they had gone to see the most famous building that lalit juneja had ever created. but the enthusiasm of two days ago wasn't there today. today, her mind was curiously empty, as if it had done it's spring cleaning and thrown out a whole lot of garbage.

from the time that she had watched the bodies of her parents and her sister slide out of sight, amidst the loud chants of the priests, to be obliterated forever, heer had been fighting. fighting to not remember the happy times. fighting to not think about the empty spaces those three had left behind. fighting to not think about her life as it was. fighting to not think about her life as it had become.

every single day for nearly two whole long years had been a fight.

when she had wept in gayatri's arms last night, it seemed like she had given up on that fight. and once the battle was done, what she was surprised to find was that beyond the calm was ... nothing. it was not peace. but it was not war. and she was ... surprised. it felt as if with those tears, she had washed away everything that was bitter and corrupt inside of her. if there had been resentment against fate, now there was none. if there had been loneliness without her parents, her sister, now there was none. she could look at her past as just that -- the past. as if it belonged to someone else. it was like being reborn. for the first time, since she lost her family, heer maan felt like she had joined the world of the living.

as she thought about it, she figured that her re-entry into the world had actually begun with finding the home-of-light. funny that it was actually her art that had been her path to re-join the world. of course, it was not the same that she used to do earlier. she had never painted light and shadows earlier. for her it had always been colour. now it was form -- form through which light made shadows, and shadows sprang from light. her father had been right that it would be her art that would stay with her through everything.

but even after that, she may still have been stuck, isolated in her own cold world, if it hadn't been for the kindness that gayatri juneja had shown her. not just last night, but for the past three months, heer realised that gayatri's kindness had been wearing away at her need to get up and fight every day. it had been soothing being with gayatri, she could see now. with gayatri, she could just be with another person, and not worry that there would be an unexpected moment where she would remember her father's quizzical remarks over some painting they were looking at together, dissecing what they saw; or her mother's half-hearted efforts to teach her how to cook; or her sister's chatter about what she did at the library that day, or the people who had been kind to her, or what she had loved about the day.

so it seemed ironical to find such a deep connection between the two: lalit juneja's vision of a place of worship that transcended all religions, that captured her mind. his son and his firm that had kept her mind engaged. and gayatri juneja's kindness which opened her soul to come out and live again.

heer refused to think about the other juneja who seemed to have sneaked past her consciousness, right into and capturing her subconscious, breathing life into her dreams every night. and yet, wasn't that the thing about the subconscious? that it saw, heard and spoke even when you weren't aware that it was there?

she remembered how still he had sat at the breakfast table. the only thing that sparked and moved and breathed were his eyes. they had fixed on her the moment she had appeared in the doorway. and though, he had veiled them almost immediately, she felt them on her, even through the drape of thick lashes. if it had been anyone else, she'd have thought her pajamas buttons had been done off-by-one. but with him, she didn't bother to look down to check. instead she had put aside the memory of that fiery kiss from the previous night, and slowly walked in at gayatri's request to join them.

but that morning, in gayatri's apartment, there had been other things to distract her from the awareness that was radiating from the corner that prem juneja sat.

heer had always been sensitive to other people's feelings. her father had always said that it was part of what made her so good at capturing life on canvas. so, she had almost instantly been aware that there was something subtly different about gayatri this morning. it was something so alien to all that gayatri had been to her, that it took a while for heer to understand that the difference was the sense of an invisible barrier that stood between her and gayatri juneja that morning. there was a certain stiffness about her, as if she were deliberately keeping herself at bay, away from heer.

it had become even more stark when juanita had come bustling into the room, dropping her bag of fruit on the table. juanita had fussed over heer, clucking over the large pajamas that she sat in, syaing that she made it look much better than when prem wore it, even with it's arms and legs rolled up several times over. the smile on gayatri's face had just fallen short of reaching her eyes. nor had the air of distraction left her for a moment while heer was there.

heer had thought that maybe it was just bad timing. perhaps prem had come to discuss important firm matters with his mother, matters which could not be done in front of a stranger. she was intruding. she had excused herself after a cup of tea -- and gayatri had not stopped her. while juanita had hugged her as she told her that she would get her jeans and pullover as soon as they had dried, before seeing her to the door.

heer's eyes were clear and untroubled as she turned away from the window, and looked at her little apartment. today, she saw it afresh. as if this was not a place that she had lived in for nearly two whole years.

she looked at the white walls, and approved of the way sunlight played on the floor, the way the canvases standing on their easels got submerged in the morning light. two of the canvases had protective white covers -- shading them from the sunlight and from prying eyes. apparently she had carried on more thing over from her previous life -- she was fiercely protective of her paintings while they were being conceived. those white veils over the canvases almost glowed in the light, brightening up the apartment further.

it had been designed with superb style and thought, she realised with her new found knowledge of the world of architecture. the high ceiling, so unusual in the city these days, allowed you to breathe. the tall windows had been placed so that there would always be light. the morning sun warming up the living room. the afternoon sun lighting up the kitchen area, as the sun set.

she liked the lack of clutter in the sparse scattering of the furniture. which placed so much emphasis on the splash of colour that was the rug in the center of the room. she walked to it slowly, knelt and ran her hand over it. today, the voices were not loud, or harsh, or intrusive. she had a feeling that they had finally been silenced and put to rest. her eyes ran along the bare tops of the coffee tables and the side tables. kneeling on the rug that symbolised the heart of the love her mother and sister had surrounded her with, heer came to a resolution.

she stood up and walked to the closet. behind those doors, among her clothes, her painting material, her winter clothes, her shoes, sat a squat little suitcase that her father had carried with him when he first come to the country from his homeland. the suitcase that had long carried what her mother had called her most precious possessions, and which now belonged to heer alone. piles and piles and piles of photographs, framed, unframed. photographs ... capturing memories.

she was still in the borrowed pajamas when he knocked on her door. her cheeks were flushed from the exertion of dragging the suitcase out from among the other boxes stored in the closet. her face streaked with dust. her hair hanging in strads from the knot at the back of her head. it was all he could do to not lean into her lips and take a kiss.

prem held out the neat pile of jeans and pullover that juanita had asked him to drop off at heer's instead. her big eyes looked up at him, grave. ''thank you.'' she said. they continued to stare at each other.

later, heer refused to analyse what made her do what she did next, other than acknowledge that it was so not like her. she tilted her head slightly and asked prem, ''would you like to come in?''

prem had spent some of the night tossing and turning in bed. his mind had been pulled in every direction all at once, replaying what had happened in the evening after he had come back home. the startled look in heer's wide eyes when she had seen his face in the bathroom mirror. the contentment on preet's face as he leaned back in his chair after dinner, chatting with his brothers. the memory of her fingers fierce in his hair, holding his head to hers. the sound of preet's voice, rich with satisfaction that they had found heer to work with. the feeling of her body in his arms.

that was when he had given up on sleep and spent some of the night sitting at his thinkpad, reviewing the notes of the last two weeks of trips, trying to organise the financials. this was the stuff that prem juneja excelled at, could do in his sleep. except, apparently, when that sleep had heer's face moving in and out of his mind.

it was then that he had decided that he should try more simple-minded tasks like walking out to get jasmine and croissants for his mother.

now the object of his thoughts offered him to come into her home. and prem juneja helplessly followed her as she turned and walked into her apartment.

he stood in the middle of the studio, as she went to put away the clothes, his darkness a stark contrast with the whiteness all around. it seemed to heer, that the light had made a halo around him. she shook her head mentally, as if exasperated at her fanciful thoughts.

he remembered that when gayatri had first moved into the apartment, they had toyed with the idea of keeping this studio for whenever one of them wanted to visit with their mother too late at night to disturb her. finally they had decided not to bother with asking the tenant to leave -- his mother's apartment was large enough to accomodate three sons. as he looked around now, he was glad that they had decided against it.

he noticed the canvases on the easels all at different angles to the window, two with white veils, one standing blank and new as if she had just placed it out. they were all surrounded by piles of sketch pads and paper at their base. he was intrigued that she was working on three canvases at the same time, and even more intrigued that the smallest one had the largest pile of crumpled paper around it.

he took in the colourful rug -- interesting contrast, he thought. a part of her old life? he remembered the vivid colours of the still-life paintings signed ''h.mann'' that he had seen.

and finally, his eyes fell on the frames that sat on the side table, three frames. one was a family photograph -- a man, a woman seated with two young girls hugging them from behind. one was lying face down. the third had the same two girls. he picked it up, as if compelled to against his will.

it was a graduation photograph -- heer's. in the photograph, she stood as straight as always, her eyes crinkled in the sun as she stared at the camera, with a smile that lightened the usual somber look in her eyes. and standing next to her, with arms wrapped around her shoulders, cheeks pressed to her cheeks, a girl with what should have been a plain face, except that she had the most broad, infectious grin that prem had ever seen in a photograph.

meher maan. prem's eyes explored her face with intense curiousity. preet had never carried a photograph of meher's. ignoring all his brother's teasing good-naturedly, he said that he never needed one 'cause he knew her face by heart. and they had never had a chance to meet her. one of the most awful consequences of the accident was that they had to deal with a demon haunting preet who was faceless, voiceless, without a personality or an identity beyond what he had described. now, as he traced out the contours of meher's face, in his mind, prem saw the two of them together -- preet and meher -- and his face grew tender and a little sad. they would have made a fantastic couple together, he thought. preet...

''that is my sister, meher.'', heer's low voice broke into his thoughts. she watched as he carefully set the frame back where he had picked it up from. ''she died in the same accident as my parents.''

''it must have been really hard. to have lost everyone you knew from childhood. to be left alone.''

heer's face was non-committal. she had grown so used to hearing this from people when the accident happened, that she automatically filtered it out.

''you must miss that smile a lot.'' her head came up at that.

he continued. ''in our house, it's preet who is the king of fsmiles. it's different from when he acts the clown, or pulls one of his jokes. his smile is like our sunshine. everything goes dark for us when preet doesn't smile. everything is possible when he smiles.'' nodding his head at the frame, prem said, ''her smile looked like it could light up even the darkest of moments.''

heer thought about it. then she said slowly, ''she had the best smile in the whole world. with meher, it was more like a weapon against anyone's defences. i never met anyone who could resist giving her anything she wanted when she smiled. not even my uncle's wife who could resist some of the most piteous requests.'' they stood quietly as they remembered. ''the best thing about meher was that she would lend it to you -- if i ever wanted something, she would always smile and coax it out of my parents for me.''

prem looked at her. he couldn't imagine anyone refusing heer what she wanted.

''funny thing is, she never asked for too much. it was like she knew how potent her smile was. and never pushed the limits. meher was an angel.''

heer hadn't realise there were tears in her eyes, until prem reached out and gently ran his thumb across her cheek. startled, her hand came up to her cheek, finding it wet. ''i...''

she did not really have words. and prem understood. ''i wish i had had a chance to meet her.'' he said, sincerity sounding like bell. he wished that there had been no accident. he wished that preet had never gone through hell. he wished that heer's big eyes did not have that permanent look of unhappiness. he wished that he had met heer in other circumstances. for so many reasons, how he wished that he had had the chance to meet meher!

his hand came up to take hers away, holding it warm and firm, the too long sleeves tumbling down to spill over both their hands. he looked down at those grave eyes that were looking up at him.

''you've got dust...'' he murmured. his other hand traced the path of that tear, his finger trailing whisper-light down her cheek, stroking up along her chin, pushing her hair away from her face behind her ear.

carefully, meticulously, he adjustd the collar of the royal blue pajamas lying against her neck, smoothing it over her collarbone. her hand gripped his hard. ''you should really keep this.'' his voice sounded rusty in his own ears. ''you make it look really good.'' she was sure he could hear the pounding of her heart. and he knew it was time for him to leave. his finger lifted her chin to allow him to look into her eyes.

''thank you for allowing me to see your home.'' his voice was soft as he leaned in againt her cheek as if to speak into her ear. ''and don't mind ma this morning. she just had news that gave her a bit of a shock. no,'' he said in answer to the look of concern that entered her eyes, ''it's not really bad. she just ... needs a little time to adjust to it.'' '

'bye.'' his lips brushed the word along her cheekbone, more a promise to meet again, rather than a farewell. with a final squeeze of her hand, he turned away.

she watched him open the door, step outside and pull the door behind him. but he stopped it before it could shut, he looked up at her. she stared fascinated - was that a twinkle in those dark eyes?

''do you realise that this is the first time we have met, and we haven't had one of our disastrous collisions?'' he paused as if he was savouring something new. and then said ''it was nice. we should try it again sometime.''

and prem juneja felt like the king of the world as heer maan's lips tilted upward into a lopsided grin.