without further ado (or comments on comments, sorry ) 'cause i am really scrambling for time just now (am doing a lot of that, no? 🤔), the update for
17 mar 2010.
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ch 69: ''love waits: prem ''
prem walked into his room, and into his bath to begin the process of winding down and getting ready for bed. he caught sight of his face in the mirror and paused to look at himself critically. would she think that he had changed, he wondered, staring at the deepset eyes, the too stark angle of the cheekbones and the shadows below. his hair had grown too long, he thought suddenly, frowning as he thrust wet fingers through the heavy fall, dampening the hair in an effort to make it stay off his forehead.
and remembered the feeling of heer's fingers clutching his hair possessively when she pulled his head down to kiss him. prem felt his entire body jerk in memory of her kiss. the memory of her lips moving into his was so stark that he could swear that his lips felt burnt, so real did it feel to him just then.
he looked into the darkened eyes in the mirror and sternly reminded the image to get a grip, to focus on the problem at hand. his hair was too long, and he needed a haircut. he made a mental note to get one before the meeting tomorrow.
but the memory would not leave him. as he turned away and walked into his bedroom, his movements were jerky and harsh. his fingers fumbled as they tried to work at the buttons of his shirt. he could feel himself shaking as his will started to lose the fight to stop his soul from flooding his entire being with the sound, sight, feel of heer.
heer.
was it normal for anyone to feel so much want? he felt like he had been thirsting forever, in the time that she had been away.
he pulled open the wardrobe, and yanked out his trackpants, making several clothes tumble out all at once. he stared at the pile on the floor in frustration for a moment. this was just not the time to lose it. he had a board meeting to hold in the morning. he had survive all the way to the trip out to the site and back. and then he could relax. all he had to do was to keep a hold on himself for that much time.
below the clothes that were hung up, prem knew were the boxes that contained her paintings. prem imagined that she had done every stroke in the painting with him in her mind, that each part and particle was a paen of love to him. those paintings where if he stared long enough, he was left with an ache so hard that it felt that he forgot everything else, the ability to sleep, to think. sometimes, he wondered if the ache for heer could make him forget how to breathe.
no, her paintings was not what he needed to look through just now. just now, he needed to keep focussed on what he was to do. he could lose his grip on reality tomorrow.
he needed to get out of his room.
prem forced himself to not run as he walked back out of his room. he could hear the murmur of conversation from the den. he did not want to spent time with his brothers either, see the look of carefully masked concern in their eyes, the frustration barely under control. downstairs, his mother, john uncle and juanita would be winding up the day's jam-and-pickle making and would notice his leaving. and worry. prem was getting tired of seeing the worry for him in the eyes of people around him.
there was only one place to go, really.
prem walked firmly out of the door of the terrace, and just as firmly continued across length of it. he blinked in surprise at having reached the wall at the end. he wanted to keep walking. it was easier to forget the ache in his center while he walked.
he stood at the edge, looking at the distant lights in the park at the horizon. when his father had bought the brownstone, one of the most important considerations was how close it was to the park. they had actually rented the place for a year. which was all the time that it took for lalit juneja to know that this would be the brownstone at the edge of the heart of the city was the perfect place to run a business as well as have his sons grow from teenagers to men.
prem remembered how his father would hold sessions with his sons up on the terrace, tracing the changes in the skyline, making plans on how some of those changes would be driven by their company. his father had always dreamt big.
the terrace was also a great place when his brothers and he used to have their friends over. and the proximity to the park was a great reason. the city ran concerts and plays at the park frequently. and though they couldn't see what was happening, the sounds came through loud and clear off the soundstage. lying back on soft mattresses, full of good food that john uncle kept them supplied with, listening to the sounds of music from the park, it had always seemed like they were getting the best of all worlds.
as prem stood at the terrace wall, he realised that there was a program on at the park. music wafted up to him, clear and light. he gladly focussed on the music, willing it to drown out the ache that he had come to the terrace to conquer. he leant a bit over the edge, beginning to shiver as the cold night air cut to his skin through the thin white shirt he wore. not classical music, nor a rock concert, he thought, with brows drawn low in fierce concentration. the melody was sweet, the voice fluid. a love song?
as prem started to make out the words, his lips stretched in a wry smile.
''love is a many splendoured thing
it's the April rose that only grows in the early spring
love is nature's way of giving a reason to be living
the golden crown that makes a man a king ... ''ever since she had left he had been running away from that fact. and everything around him, just kept reminding him of it. and suddenly, prem wanted to laugh out at the futility of his actions.
as the music washed over him, prem juneja threw out his arms, threw back his head, opening himself to the air. he unleashed his memories, imagining the feel of her in his arms, remembering the touch of her lips and the love in her eyes, and willingly surrendered to the madness within.
''heer.'' he called into the night, over the music.
he laughed soundlessly as he said her name, clear and loud. suddenly the want for her was not something that felt like a stone in his chest. instead, his hands stetching out on either side of him, feeling the breeze ripple his sleeves, his finger tips straining to reach out even further, he felt like he could fly to her. was he finally going out of his mind?
''heer.'' he closed his eyes, as if in prayer, willing her to come to him.
''heer.'' ---------- ph ---------- ph ---------- ph ----------phew. phinally, not much longer to the end now. 😃
Itti Si Khushi Sab TV
Bade Achhe Lagte Hain
