It was 3:00 in the morning and multimillionaire Arnav Singh
Raizada was riding the subway, attracting more than a few curious stares from
bystanders. Apparently the regular, homeless folks who took to the subway for
shelter at night were not accustomed to Armani suits on their turf.
Destination was unknown. Purpose indefinite.
He had abandoned his customary "practical businessman"
acumen for the night, and had refused to think or plan or consider the more sensible
options. Because, well, the man simply needed out.
He needed to be alone so he could rethink the past six
years... so he could uncage his thoughts and allow them to wander entirely
free.
"ASR, we rented a car for a reason!" Aman had gawked dazedly.
"The chauffeur is going to make 300 f**king dollars for playing Temple Run all
night!" The logic had, however, fallen on deaf ears; Arnav was past the point
of employing even the most basic common sense.
But as he sat upon the cold plastic seat, watching the
graffiti on the walls whiz by like a neon mirage, he thought of Khushi.
He thought of the woman who had been confined to sleeping in
the pouring rain, with bruised wrists and sunken eyes. He thought of that
woman's tears and pain; how her once zealous passion to live with fervor had
withered away before him. Hollow bones. Broken bangles. Black, grey and beige.
But then... then he thought of a strong, independent woman who
dared to raise her daughters fearlessly. He thought of the woman clad in the
most brightest red, who sighed as she stole private moments in her husband's
arms. He thought of her eyes, which
burned and flashed with a rekindled spirit.
He loved those eyes.
"Excuse me, sir. We're going to have to ask you to leave.
This is the final stop and the train is going out of service."
_________________________________________
Arnav entered a dark, uninviting apartment later that morning.
Tossing his keys carelessly onto the floor, he loosened his tie and removed his
jacket, unwilling to flip the switch and face the cutting glare of reality. He wasn't quite ready to take the plunge. The exhaustion of the day finally began to sink in, and his
knees dropped to the ground. Despite the fatigue, he couldn't sleep --- the image
of a smiling Khushi surrounded by an orbit of glowing dias refusing to leave his memory.
"I wasn't
pining with your payal
against my chest"
"If you
don't want to accept it as a gift, then think of it as a tip"
"You'll marry me tonight Khushi, or I'll ruin your sister's life"
" No one wants to listen to how brilliantly Bradley Fisher f*cked you last
night"
"I'm your
husband. Do you understand that?"
His head began to spin and his breaths quickened, dogged
tears beginning to spill from their tightly bound confinement. The thought of
her hazel eyes had ensnared him -- clouded with tears, spitting with fire,
laughing with joy and burning with anger. But all they had ever revealed for
him in the past month had been hatred --- bottomless, scorching and unconcealed hatred. His heart pounded painfully in
his chest, desperately trying to shift the train of his thoughts.
"I owe you
no answers. And you have no right to question me."
"Khushi
IS my wife NOW."
"I called
her Di despite of what I think of
you"
"That's what
you do in a marriage. You trust the other person. You support them."
She loves me, his
conscious battled weakly. She always has.
"People
don't magically transform, you disgusting piece of shit"
"She's
changed into what she's wanted to be."
"If a voice
is ignored or belittled, the relationship leads to failure. Much like ours
did."
"Stay the
fu*k away from my family"
The memories grew sharper as the poison of their past seeped
into his pathetic charade of love, and soon enough, her words were thundering
in the air. They weighed against his shoulders till his entire body convulsed
in tremors, no longer strong enough to carry the burden. Arnav slammed him
hands over his ears, pushing his palms deeper against his skin in an attempt to
drown the noise.
"But
you'd know a lot about that, wouldn't you Arnav? How to make a mockery of a
marriage?"
"What
happened between us doesn't mean a thing to me"
"Charlie,
Mr. Raizada. My name is Charlie."
"I'm done
with convincing you to believe me. I've long since come to the conclusion that
my attempts are futile."
And then, he detonated.
He screamed until his lungs felt sore, but could not drown
away the voice of reason. He screamed because he did not want to give up on the
woman he loved, but knew he could never win. He screamed because the tears
singed and burned, but the fantasy no longer numbed the pain. He screamed for
lost hope, for unrequited love.
And finally, when the light blared and Anjali came into
focus, holding their mother's bangles against her chest, his tears ceased and the
room fell silent.
"Ch... chotte?"
He stared at his sister, allowing the heat to dissipate and
leave more comforting warmth in its wake. The light bounced off the diamonds
encrusted around the bangle's edges, dancing a myriad of bright hues in every
color.
Those had been Khushi's bangles. His mother had left them for her.
They had adorned her wrists from the very moment he had
carried her home -- the gold remaining resiliently beautiful as its beholder wasted
away. The gaudy patterns and bright colors slowly began to disappear, as did her
long hair and silver payal -- but those bangles had chimed in Shantivan until Khushi had
disappeared from it.
In fact, the last he had seen them had been inside his
cupboard --- with a note thanking him for granting her freedom.
Freedom.
Arnav felt Anjali's arms gently wrap around him, her long
fingers soothing through his untamed hair. Exhausted and frightened, he let his
head fall against her, pacing his breaths with the rise and fall of her chest.
"Chotte, if you truly love her... then you'll let her go. Khushi isn't your quirky assistant
anymore; she's a wife and a mother of two girls. She's built herself a life
that doesn't involve you anymore"
Arnav thought of the photos scattered around her office -- snapshots of Kinara, Shagun and Tarang building the happiest moments of her
life. Not a single picture of their past had been included. No Payal. No Nani.
No Bua Ji or Anjali. Nobody.
"But I'll... I'll die without her," he managed to whisper, allowing
the tears to soak through his sister's blouse. He could sense her beginning to
cry as well, as she leaned her head on top of his own.
"Loving a woman doesn't mean having her beside you, Chotte.
It means being beside her, despite it."
Anjali cradled his face against her palms, coercing him to look
into her eyes. Her brother had not looked that vulnerable in over twenty years --- since the day their mother had put a bullet in her mouth. His eyes were
transparent and unnervingly clear, freed of crazed guilt and infatuation. "Do
you love this woman?" she whispered, flinching as his body slightly tremored.
"Do you truly love her?"
Arnav's eyes fluttered shut and the memories reeled behind
closed lids --- when the days that passed were easier, innocent and far more pleasant.
When life was filled with the sweetness of jalebis
and the brightness of her pompoms.
When their skin tingled from gentle touches and heartbeats quickened from
stolen glances. When her laughter brought him joy and her presence brought him
long forgotten peace.
He had been crazy about her, but too foolish, too proud to
understand.
But... did he still
love her? Did he love the woman who was strong and resilient? Who loved
fiercely and faithfully? Who was cultured and brilliant, unafraid and
liberated? Did he... did he still love Khushi?
At the thought of bright hazel eyes, he knew. He always had.
"I do. I love her more than anything."
"Then prove it. Prove it to her. To yourself."
The
night passed as the burden of six, long years was relieved. Arnav cried
until he felt weightless --- a crying that could not be diluted by a brave deed
or a kind word, but only by someone holding him as his shoulders shook and
tears ran down his face.
And as the sun broke the night and allowed the warmth of new
beginnings to arise, Arnav slept in the most peaceful slumber since he'd first realized
that he loved her.
_________________________
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE: C O M P R O M I S E
Please do take the moment to hit the like button and write a comment. It never fails to make me smile :) Thank you.
comment:
p_commentcount