ff: ''a many splendoured thing', update pg. 102 - Page 56

days, weeks and months later, after his life dissolved and fell apart in ways that he could never have imagined then, what prem remembered most clearly was how that night he had finally been able to have as much of heer as he wanted. they had talked little. mostly there had been shared laughter, gasps and sighs. because there had been a lot of touching, and feeling.

and kissing. oh yes, there had been a lot of that.

at some point in that long cold night, they had fallen asleep where they sat, wrapped up in each other's arms. heer had fallen asleep first, and prem had savoured the pleasure of holding his lover, and letting her measured deep breathing become the lullaby that put him to sleep.

sometime later, he had woken up to the quiet sounds of her sobbing. as soon as his sleep-dulled mind identified the sound, he had jerked upright where he was, feeling disoriented as he had looked around to find her.

she had been kneeling at the rug in the center of her apartment, her hands covering her face, and crying so hard that at first he had been worried that she had hurt herself again. it had taken him a while to know that the wound was not something superficial, on the surface, but something that hurt her from deep inside. she would not tell him a word of what was troubling her so, but she could not stop weeping either.

after a while, he had figured that the best thing he could do was hold her where she knelt, crouching with his arms around her, rocking her to and fro in a rhythm that came from he knew not where. and after a while, the sobs had quietened down into harsh indrawn breaths, that softened into an irregular snotty sound as she slept. he had gathered her tenderly into his arms, staggering as he stood, and had taken her back to the sofa, lying next to her, arming her with his arms and his body.

but for the first time that night, heer's arms had stayed wrapped around herself.

when he had woken, she was not there.

at first, he had thought she had stepped out to get something. he had kept the door open for her to walk in, as he settled down with her morning newspapers, trying to distract the goofy smile away from his face. the minutes ticked on, merging into hours, and it had taken him that long to understand that she was not coming back.

prem had understood that she was not there. but not why. and so he had waited. he had ignored the calls from his brothers. he had smiled at jaunita when she peered into the apartment excitedly, telling him that gayatri was waiting for him and heer to come before she had her lunch. he had told her gently to tell his mother to go ahead with her lunch, that heer and he would take a while. juanita had blushed knowingly and told him not to leave it too late because gayatri was eagerly waiting to greet her daughter.

he had waited all day, and well into the night, before he got up stiffly from the sofa where he waited. for the first time, since he had woken up, he had looked around at the apartment with eyes that were searching for something other for heer.

the rug had been missing. the three photo frames on her sidetable had been missing. her portfolio bag and her paints had been missing. the box that had ''heer maan, artist consultant, lalit juneja & sons, pvt. ltd.'' on it had been missing.
but against the window were her easels used to be, there had been two small canvases. more than the clothes that hung in the closet, the sight of the canvasses had given him heart. she could not leave her work behind. she would be back. she had not simply vanished.

and he had waited. and watched one more sunset without heer. he had not sleep, but instead waited with burning eyes through the night. he had not wanted to miss her when she got back in.

when a knock had come on the door the next morning, he had flung the door open, every part of him leaping to life.

but it had been preet and harman. both their faces had worn matching leers that instantly had been replaced with incomprehension and fear at the sight of his face, unshaven, drawn, heavily shadowed under the eyes. when he had said that heer had not been home for two nights, preet had panicked. prem had patiently explained to him that if something had happened to her, someone would have called the apartment since her contact pointers would be in her portfolio bag. that had calmed preet somewhat. but they had both seen the layer of panic and misery that their brother was fighting to keep supressed under the surface calm on his face. they had stopped swamping their pb with questions.

instead they had quietly left the apartment. that afternoon, operation ''find heer'' was launched at a working lunch for the brownstone gang at gayatri's apartment, which shifted back to the brownstone as headquarters. harman had used his contacts at the city's police department to confirm that heer was not one among the city's wounded or dead over the last three days. it had been rajat's idea to keep the gate of the garden open in case she took the back route back into the brownstone again. charlie and shakti had taken over the press and customer calls on the cathedral project, while preet started tapping into his network among the art schools in the city to find out where heer could be.

gayatri had called on balwant maan to find out if heer was with her uncle. the elder maans had not been in residence but ashlesha had been. gayatri had spent an hour with her and from her excited stories, had learnt a lot about heer's past that she had not known before. but not where heer was.

and prem had waited. the only time that he had not spent in the apartment was when he went across the lobby to take a shower and shave. he had discovered that the sofa could be pulled out into a bed. he had found out that heer liked pajamas with little flowers on them. he had found out that pari was a gem of a secretary could really do anything that he asked her to. and he had found out that life has little meaning for him when heer was not there.

the waiting had stopped on the eighth day after he had woken up to find heer missing from his arms.

jaunita had gotten used to taking him some tea in the morning, even though he told her gently that she should not bother. so she had been surprised that he was not in the little apartment. when gayatri found out, she had tried calling prem on his cellphone, but to no avail. neither of his brothers had heard from him either.

and they would not hear from him until the day had drawn to a frigid close, the cold winter winds blowing hard.

when prem had returned to the brownstone that night, every light in the the brownstone was on, making the brownstone blaze like a beacon in a storm. john-uncle had been horrified when he saw prem. prem had looked like he had been walking in the streets, even though he had been wearing just a suit over his shirt. his lips had had a bluish tinge, and there were ice crystals in his hair. but it was prem's eyes that had horrified him the most. those deepset eyes had looked empty and as bleak as the snowstorm that was gathering force outside.

he had rushed him upto his room, past everyone gathered in the den, who had come spilling out hearing john-uncle scolding prem loudly. when prem had tried to insist he was alright, john had refused to leave him alone. when he had come back to fetch prem after the hot bath was drawn, prem had been sitting on the edge of his bed, where john had left him.

''as if he was mentally blind.'' john had told juanita late that night when they had retired, ''as if he had lost sight of where he was, or who he was, nita. i have never seen prem like that.'' john had shivered, even though he was not cold.

prem had obediently sat in the bath, obediently let john scrub him down, dry his hair, dress him up in jeans and a warm sweater. it had been when john had called him to the den for dinner, and he had walked into that room, that prem had finally shown some reaction. for the entire den was occupied -- with harman, nandita, preet, charles, shakit, rajat, soni, his mother. prem's brow had wrinkled when he saw the crowd. he had walked upto gayatri, who had looked at him with infinite love in her eyes, waiting -- as she always did -- for him to tell her what was wrong. he had leaned over to kiss her cheek, and hold her hand firmly in his, before he had turned around to the gang to tell them about heer.

that she was well. that she had called him that morning. that he had met her at the airport. that she had been accepted at an arts school in france. that it had been a long standing promise that she had made to one of her father's oldest friends, to accompany mrs. bernstein to europe, learn art as the old masters had done it, test her mettle against their strength. that she was forever grateful to the brownstone for what she had learnt here. to the vision of it's founder. to the spirit of the gang. that she would never forget them. or stop loving them. and that one day she would be back.

it had been soni, impatient, blunt, who had blurted out what they all wanted to ask. ''damnit, prem, but what about you, man? you guys are in love with each other! what about that? you were meant to be together. what about the two of you??''

gayatri had felt her son tighten his hold on her hand for a small moment, as if involuntarily. she had wanted to cry when she had watched him smile his difficult little smile, and had heard him say more honestly than she had ever seen be in front of a crowd before, ''ah, yes, there is that. and yet, she has gone to france. looks like it was not meant to be, doesn't it?''

and gayatri had thought that it was a testament to his love for the group of people who sat huddled in the room that prem's face had then lit up with a smile, as he had said, ''i hear there have been quite a few bets on me and heer in the betting book.'' he had grinned at the suddenly large number of shamed faces in the room, before he continued, ''who's going to take me up on my bet? that heer and i are going to be together. c'mon guys -- think of the odds. art classes with hot french men ... vs. me!''

the room had relaxed, erupting with laughter at that. they had settled down to dinner that day, prem had held on to his mother's hand till the end, before he had left to go to sleep.

unbeknownst to him, that day, prem juneja made brownstone history for having offered the only bet that had ever found no takers for the opposite side.