Ek Khoobsurat Safar ka Aghaaz
(Thanks to Fatima for this perfect title and BornThisWay for the banner)
Arzoo's heart was soaring, laughing, dancing in the rhythm of
the raindrops splattering over the car windows. She watched, in lazy
fascination, as the drops of water turned into indolent rivulets that meandered
across the fogged glass. Everything, even the most commonplace of things, had
been suffused with an unprecedented radiance - everything was artistic,
magical, Sahir-like.
Sahir was smiling too. She could see his face crinkling up
slightly out of the corner of her eyes. They had not spoken much since they had
entered his car, but she strongly felt as though their silences were singing to
each other, reminiscing happily about the moments they had shared, about their
dreams and many unspoken promises to each other.
She stole a surreptitious glance at the knot in her dupatta,
and felt herself blush once again as she remembered how his eyes had misted
over with emotion when he had told her that he loved her, as she remembered how
he had held her hand against his throbbing chest and taken a step towards
her... how he had gently brought his face closer to hers, and lowered his eyes
until they came to rest on her lips.
There had been an undeniable softness interwoven with the
intensity of his gaze, a gentle insistence, which had pulled her towards him,
melting away all her inhibitions into a blissfully light-headed blur. The
tenderness of the yearning with which his warm breaths had mingled with hers
had made her feel needed and cherished in a way that she had never felt before,
causing the tiniest of tears to leak out of the corner of her eye. And slowly,
he had leaned in, nuzzled his lips lightly along the side of her cheek, and
placed, at the spot where the teardrop was resting, a lingering, soft, whisper-like
kiss filled with all the sweetness of the world.
Overcome with shyness, she had buried herself in his embrace,
and with a smile in his tone as he rested his head against hers, he had
repeated that he loved her. His love for her was no secret. He had proven it to
her in countless ways. Yet, to hear him say those three words, with such unaffected
sincerity, such simplicity had caused a warm wave of happiness to wash over
her, submerging her, soaking into every pore of her being.
And the same happiness glowed within her then, as she
remembered the smallest of sensations that were snuggled within that moment.
Suddenly, the car stopped. The rain had stopped too. They had
reached her apartment. And suddenly, without warning, a swirl of sickening
fears churned in the pit of her stomach. She felt the colour drain from her
face, and every part of her body turned to ice, as a painful chill rushed down
her spine.
"Arzoo?" Sahir enquired, concerned.
And she realised that those moments of unbridled, carefree
joy had been stolen moments after all. Like the rainbow shimmers that whirled
in the translucent soap bubbles that she liked to play with as a child, her
escapes into the reveries of a perfect, painless world, were ultimately
transient, doomed to burst into millions of tiny droplets, at the slightest
touch from the jagged edges of reality. Reality...
Reality was the apartment waiting for her upstairs... the
broken doors of her bedroom and bathroom, the stench of Shiraz's cigarettes,
the echoes of his snores in the bed where he had lain, the plate he had eaten
in, his clothes and other possessions, the things he had touched, the things he
had said, the things he had done. Upon leaving the police station, she had
gone directly to Sahir's apartment, and it was only now that she would be going
to hers. To her reality, which lay in the memories that would never cease to
haunt her, even as Sahir continued to strive to create a new world for her.
She turned to look at Sahir and shook her head, smilingly, as
she said, "I will see you tomorrow. Good night, Sahir."
"I will drop you to your door," he replied, unconvinced. He
was Sahir after all. He could read through her attempts to shield away her
pain, to feign normalcy in the face of the turmoil brewing within her. She
began to brush away his concerns, but he had made up his mind.
A part of her rejoiced with gratitude that she had found in
him such unwavering support, that she had been blessed with somebody who would
always understand her and stand by her.
But for the most part, she felt her insides wring with guilt.
After so long, she had seen him smile wholeheartedly. And there she was, after
the beautiful moments they had shared - back to making everything about herself
and her never-ending troubles. He would comfort her, she would be comforted. As
usual. And once again, she would become so caught up in the quagmires of her
past, that she would lose sight of Sahir, of his pain, his needs, his wishes.
She hated that she felt like a burden on him, fettering away his chances for true,
wholesome happiness. She loved him so much... with a kind of desperation, almost...
a burning desperation to give him everything of the best, to bring all the
world's joys at his feet. But ironically, she was the one who stood in the way
of what she ached for.
She took a deep breath and steadied herself. They had reached
the door of her apartment. She thought back to the glorious moment where he had
beaten up Shiraz at the police station so that she could conjure a heartfelt
smile, and turned to him.
"Thanks," she said, as brightly as she could. But even she
knew that she sounded overly cheery.
"Won't you invite me inside?" he asked, with a knowing tone
lacing his words.
Defeated, she opened the door to the rancid odour of Shiraz's
cigarettes. Sahir walked around the apartment, wordlessly inspecting every nook
and corner, and Arzoo followed him, powerlessly. He saw the broken doors, he
saw the ropes in the bathroom, he saw the broken glasses, the things that had
been flung around, her ripped clothes that were scattered on the bedroom floor,
the belt that had been used to whip her. It was all there, an open book.
When he turned to look at her, there were helpless tears erupting
in his eyes, welling up in red pools of raw fury. A storm was raging within
him, imploding in his veins, causing his entire body to quake.
"You stayed with him so that he would not hurt me," he mumbled
hoarsely, sounding disgusted with himself. As if it was his fault.
Arzoo smiled weakly as she snaked her hands around his waist
and pulled herself into his embrace, gripping the back of his shaking shoulders
with fierce protectiveness, as she whispered, "It's over, it's okay. You
rescued me, remember?"
His arms hung limply by his sides for a few minutes, before
he slowly wrapped them around her frame. And together, clinging to each other
as one would to life itself, they sobbed soundlessly, for each other. She felt
herself succumb to waves of overwhelming relief as she realised just how much
she needed him, how much courage she derived from his mere presence. With him
by her side, the nightmares embedded in every inch of the apartment no longer
gloated at her, basking in their former invincibility. They were the past, but
Sahir was the present, the future, everything. She breathed in his warm musky
scent deeply, until it seemed to seep in through her bones, until she felt
herself melt into it.
"You won't stay here, at least not for tonight," he said, when
they eventually broke apart, "Please pack your things."
"Sahir," she protested, "You don't have to worry about me.
I'm okay. I felt uneasy in the car earlier... about having to face... all this. I
had... forgotten. But I feel much better now. Really. I just need to clear the
mess, and... I'll be okay."
To be honest, she really was not sure that she would be okay
once he left. But she tried to force in her words every semblance of confidence
that was required to convince him.
He let out a short exasperated sigh.
"You're so stubborn," he muttered, his jaw tightening with
barely suppressed irritation, "Now if you could just quit channeling your inner
Jhansi ki rani for a minute, that
would be great."
"Wh-what?" Arzoo spluttered out, unable to contain a giggle.
For some reason, the way his lips thinned and his chin quivered when he was annoyed
made him look irresistibly cute, like a petulant child.
"Yes, Jhansi ki rani!"
came the affirmation, "You won't become small if you allowed yourself to stay
at my place tonight."
"Which reminds me," he added, his tone softening to a
concerned whisper, "You wouldn't have applied any ointment to your... bruises, right?"
She shook her head, as her face broke into an indulgent grin.
The mention of her bruises should have reminded her of how humiliated Shiraz
had made her feel, but all she saw was the adorable expression of exasperation
etched on Sahir's face. It felt nice, for a change, to let go and allow herself
to be looked after, without worrying about seeming dependent and vulnerable.
This was Sahir after all - the one person with whom she felt entirely,
undeniably safe.
"I have some ointment at my place," he said, "Pack your
things, please. And Zaki is also there, so this way you will get to spend more
time with him before he leaves for Delhi."
"Yes, Mr Chaudhary," she replied, trying to sound weary, but chuckling
secretly as she made her way to get her bags.
"That's better. Oh and suno,
I love you."
It was a good thing that she had her back turned to him,
because inevitably, Arzoo blushed... yet again.
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Edited by _.serendipity._ - 8 years ago
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