Resolved - Part 1, The Restitution Series

RESOLVED

The sound of Swara's wrenching sobs tore through the otherwise tomb-like silence that prevailed in the majestic halls of Maheshwari Mansion. The current inhabitants of the house stood frozen as if in some macabre tableau as the grim scene in front of them played out. Swara was on her knees, head bent in defeat and humiliation, staring at the meagre contents of her bag splayed out around her, shards of broken glass from a smashed photo-frame scattered in so many jagged edges, all of which seemed to her to be piercing her inwardly, rather than simply sprawled on the ornate marble floor. Her tormentor, her very own sister, stood over her, an eerily malicious, yet frozen expression, arrayed on her deceptively cherubic features, belying the belief that such seeming innocence could ever harbour real evil. Around them, various current inhabitants of the house stood as if turned to stone after having gazed at Medusa; only this Medusa had the face of an angel and only the soul of a venomous serpent, and was named Ragini.

Swara stretched out her hand to gather the now shattered frame to her, uncaring of the ragged fragments of glass that were only too ready to inflict the same injury to her delicate hands that her sibling's treachery had already scored on her honour and psyche with painful accuracy. However, before she could suffer those physical cuts too, she found her hand grasped by a familiar warm clasp that stilled her, causing her to raise shocked eyes to her husband's beloved face. The naked raw agony she saw there caused her to gasp aloud, something her own pain had yet failed to evoke. However, he shuttered his gaze with a valiant effort, and not giving her much time to try to decipher anything, raised her with a firm grasp maintained of her arm. He was quickly talking, and whilst her jumbled brain again registered in some far corner that his usually timbered tones which normally flowed over her like warm honey, were unusually flat and monotone with some unseen strain, his abrupt words gave her no chance to analyse this either.

"Bass Swara. Uttara, yeh kapde phir se pack karvado, aur dhyaan se ke yeh glass na lage, waise bhi itna tamasha ho gaya hai, abh kisiko chot lagg gayi toh aur drama hoga," was all he gave as his ostensible reason for his sudden intervention. He continued in his grim tone, keeping his face firmly turned away from Swara, as if unseeing the ravages grief had wrought on her delicate features, "Ragini, tum apna show abh khatam karo aur main driver ke saath Swara ko Baadi bhej raha hoon, kyunke mujhe aur bhi kaam hai."

Sanskaar felt Swara's arm tremble beneath the grip he still kept on her, foolishly trying to prolong any contact with her, and a hate so powerful against Ragini that it threatened to choke him, washed over him in a wave. Imperceptibly his hold must have tightened on Swara and he felt her slightly jerk in response, forcing him to regain control with a supreme effort of will. There would be time to savour his hatred later, he promised himself with grim determination. For now, he had to get his wife out of here without raising the slightest bit of attention to what he was really doing. He reluctantly let go of her arm and saw her wounded eyes immediately seek his at this further sign of betrayal, as it must appear to her. He kept his gaze firmly turned away; looking at her now could bring the fragile house of cards he was building crashing down around them, but unlike with pieces of paper, such collapse could wreak devastating destruction to the delicate fabric of their lives already damaged by the deranged woman before them.

The next few minutes flew by in a whirl of activity. Uttara, with tears in her eyes at the brutal scenes she had been forced to witness along with others, rushed forward and helped to restore order to Swara's disarrayed bag, rifled through by Ragini to allegedly investigate for missing money before she forced Swara out. Effectively one more weapon in her considerable arsenal to humiliate her sister, and to reinforce her present superiority over the others in his family, but importantly to also test him; something that only he was able to pick up on. Had he cracked and defended Swara as his every instinct screamed at him to, and had annihilated Ragini with his words and possibly actions, as he so yearned to, she would have won this round, and possibly scored a victory that could turn the whole of the battle in her favour decisively. Instead he had stood watching, each insult she inflicted on Swara magnified as he absorbed it. If only he could project a shield around her to cause the hurled abuses to rebound and hit their perpetrator, he raged with helpless but silent fury. Instead, he clenched his fists but kept his face carefully impassive. Only, from time to time, his eyes blazed with a strange light, as if they would scorch everything around them with aridness for the pain being inflicted on his love and through her, on him.

He had been on to some of Ragini's nefarious recent plans and what he had not yet unraveled, he soon would, he was already well on his way. However, he needed time for that, as well as to continue finalising his arrangements to secure the financial future for their family to free them from Ragini's clutches. She had never frightened him or intimidated him; any power she exercised over the others, never held sway for him. But she had managed to find his Achille's heel and to neutralise her, he had to mislead her into believing that he suffered from no such weakness. He had to feign invincibility and ensure that she was diverted from understanding that the one part of him not dipped into the Styx, was no longer a weakness he had not managed to conquer*. He had initially chosen to openly challenge her and make clear to her that he would not stand for Swara to be hurt by her, or she would have him to reckon with and he well knew she would not pick up the gauntlet he threw down. No, her way was always the dagger hidden in the silken cloak, the knife wound in the back. But she had a power he was unable to nullify. His Swara always let her exercise control over her in one way or other. Swara's greatest virtue was also her greatest failing- her endless capacity to love indiscriminately. Selflessness should be valued but when it came at the expense of any sensible instinct of self preservation, it became a curse. Such was the case with Swara. She would lose the ability to entirely reason when it came to anyone she loved or adopted as one of her causes, no matter how hopeless. Be that as it may, it was what made her and as it was part of her, Sanskaar was powerless against it, just as he was against the overwhelming love he had for her.

Perhaps unknowingly, but Ragini had managed to play her latest hand in a way that caused dread and fear to course through him; not for himself, but for the woman who held the key to his every happiness - his Swara. To say that he had been angry with Swara over her rather momentary, but yet infuriating, mistrust of him was an understatement. The deep well of his patience and understanding and selfless giving without any hope of recompense had finally run dry at that point, and all the months of pent up longing, frustration and grief had burst through as righteous rage at her. He knew he had been harsh, heck, he had entirely gloried in it, savouring the release it offered his overtly suppressed torrent of emotions, but even that had been tainted; marred by the sorrow he began to see reflected on her face, emanating from her every gesture and helpless pleadings as the days went past. Then Ragini had begun her latest farce, aided and abetted shockingly by her grandmother and hell had once again broken loose to make merry in the corridors of Maheshwari House, stealing all hopes of peace. He had continued to be angry at Swara, his anger seemed corrosive and was eating at him, just as it continued to torment her, but he had softened, without letting Swara see it. Matters had come to a head when Ragini had openly threatened Swara and asked her to leave, causing him to immediately attempt to act as a bulwark against her malice. Yet, this had been a tactical error on his part, as he saw later. It had only caused Ragini to compound her efforts and as ever, she played dirty, uncaring of what devastation she left in her trail. Yet, he had felt in control and was determined that no matter what, should Swara want to stay, she would. Selfishly, he knew he wanted her there too. Not having her before him all the time was always agonising; it was like missing an essential part of yourself and possibly like the sense of loss that would come with a severed limb, her absence was a constant ache. He had hardened his heart against her apologies, despite knowing she was truly contrite, but the betrayal he had experienced at her lapse in trust in him, which was only the tip of the iceberg of a mountain of crumbled hopes and dashed expectations by her, made it hard to forgive quickly. Yet, he felt a perverse pleasure in still seeing her and knowing she was there; the bittersweet pleasure of her presence warring with his sadness at knowing they were at odds.

Yet, he could no more truly break away from her, than he could tear his own heart from his body. She after all was the pulse that beat in him, she throbbed like life through him and without her, he would surely cease to exist. He therefore continued to stay aloof and deliberately even hurtful, but still watchful in his incessant guard of her. However, he knew Ragini planned something that could potentially put Swara at risk; his doubt cemented when he heard that the men from their Marwari Society had dared enter his house to threaten his wife. Ice had run through his veins when Swara told him of their visit, he knew terror in that moment- never for himself as they could not really harm him, but for her. His precious but very fragile love; she could be crushed so easily, and he of all people was coming to learn how treacherous those men, who masqueraded as respectable social guardians,but were little better than common ruffians, could be. That decided it, he had to remove her from harm's way whilst he continued to work on his plan. It would break her heart, he knew, and of course what affected her, he experienced ten-fold, but there was no other way. Ragini had to believe she had succeeded; it was the only way she would call her unleashed hell mongrels off, and once she became thus complacent, he himself could finally make his move. He had to check mate her and to do so, she needed to believe that she had set the board to her advantage, and was on to certain victory. Discretion had to be the better part of valour here, and in playing this game, he would have to preteed to sacrifice his queen, but at the same time, strengthen every defence around her so she stayed safe at all costs. For if she was lost, everything was mere dust and ashes.

If only he could have played this charade without causing her the torment she had undergone these past weeks! Sanskaar's heart smote when he recalled all that she e had suffered. His persistent refusals to listen to her, the endless degradations Ragini forced her to endure, culminating with the truly despicable trick of getting Swara to sign divorce papers deceitfully, and levelling accusations of seeking the astronomical sum of alimony from him, had all been undeniable trauma. But if only she knew, that for each cut Ragini made on her, Sanskaar bled; each fibre of his being silently screaming in protest at the unbelievable affliction they both felt. The pinnacle of this had been today, when she had heartbreakingly told him she loved him, and had begged him to allow her to stay. He would never forget the agony that literally tore through him in that moment. How he had wanted to crush her in his arms, anchoring her there to sustain her, as her love had done for him for so long, enfolding her in his embrace to pledge his love to her once again, but this time in glorious return to her much awaited awakening. His dream had come true but had turned to a nightmare in exactly the same moment. Instead of sealing their love with endless kisses and giving into the passion that burned through him for her day and night, he was forced to pretend disbelief and callously dismiss her poignant declaration, and then helplessly partake in watching her get stripped of her right to not only remain as his wife, but to rule his house and heart.

Sanskaar had thought never to feel again as he did after Kavita's death. He thought that Swara had cured him of the acid bitterness that hating someone could bring, he had thought to never experience the molten lava of wanting revenge so badly, that it was akin to an inferno blazing through your very being. But in that moment, he felt all that and more for Ragini. It was not a rational thought process, there was something animalistic and atavistic about it. Sanskaar knew that, and yet he could not feel ashamed for it. She sought to destroy the one thing that truly defined happiness and peace for him. He would willingly sacrifice his hope of heaven for Swara, and by the same token, he would plunge anyone who sought to harm her, into hell without a moment's hesitation, even if he had to travel there with his adversary himself. He made a vow to himself in that moment. As he turned his face from his love, watching her break like the slithers of glass that her sister soon smashed around her, he mentally promised himself that Ragini would pay. For each of Swara's tears and his excruciating torment, he would hold her to account. He would not rest till she was defeated and for the death by a thousand cuts she was inflicting on him and Swara and his family too, he would ensure she felt every slash just as keenly.

He would later give into a paroxysm of distress, he would rave in the privacy of his room, bereft of her, crying out for her, just as he did. He would ensure the broken frame containing a rare picture of them that she was so zealously guarding, was safely stowed in their cupboard to await her return, he would cradle one of her little containers of vermillion and keep that just as safe. He would painstakingly write her an email with today's date on it, which bore witness to his heartbreak of today, promising her that he would fill her parting with this same vermillion when he restored her to his home and in his life as he so longed to, and expressing how truly sorry he was for what he had done to her, to them, but swearing to her that he would make it all come right for them, and then he would spend a lifetime making it all up to her, mitigating each sorrow with every pleasure he could give her.

However, for now, he had to continue delivering his performance, that was truly worthy of any Academy Award. He met Ragini's hooded gaze, noting with savage pleasure that she wore her triumphant expression, which indicated that she believed she had won this round. Keeping his eyes on his siste in law, he took his now silently sobbing wife's hand, pretending to march her towards the door himself, muttering that he was instructing the driver to take her to Baadi. He knew the reproach he would find in her eyes and the utter sense of loss and betrayal, mixed with disbelief, that her Sanskaar could do this, but all he could do was get her away from here as quickly as possible. As he finally faced her at the foot of the stairs, he dared meet her eyes. He knew full well his practised mask slipped again and her own eyes widened slightly at what she saw momentarily explode from his. He let her fingers linger on hers, very gently trying to detach his hold on them, withdrawing them as if being forcibly ripped from hers. He fancifully felt as its time slowed for them in that moment, their eyes snaring, each emanating emotions so powerful, it seemed to emit a virtual force field around them. One could be forgiven for thinking that the sound of breaking hearts could actually be heard.

And then it was done. He pretended he was going to work, leaving the driver to take her. He sat at the wheel of his car for a long second, mustering up some strength to carry on with almost Herculean effort. After ensuring the driver had driven off so as not to raise suspicion, he followed the car, keeping a safe distance and trying to fight off the waves of anguish that swamped him as he thought of her, and saw her bowed head in the car some way ahead of him. He knew he had to ensure she did not see him, but when she got out of the car, and leaned against the shut door for a second, the etched despondency on her face, made him almost jump out of the car and rush to take her in his arms. However, he knew he could not reveal his true intent to her; she would interfere one way or the other, and rush headlong into danger as she always did, and the stakes were too high this time. As he fought his own instincts, he delayed a bit too long, his overpowering concern for her not letting him drive off immediately. The driver left and yet she stood there, at the entrance to her maternal house, her small bag at her feet in the dust. She looked so lost and helpless, he could not bear it. He sent out a desperate plea for help from any source that would heed him, and as if the fervour of his feelings called to her, she suddenly looked around and spotted him. She froze, her face registered stunned disbelief even more intense than when their gazes had collided earlier in that blazing wordless exchange, which was replaced by utter confusion, and finally, lightened by a tentative tendril of hope. Again, they looked at each other, eyes and souls communicating. The impact was as potent as a kiss exchanged between lovers, lips did not actually meet but in a plane removed from the material, there was a far more powerful embrace. It foretold of a dawn that would break through and lighten their worlds with sunshine and love, it saw them laughing carelessly and sitting on dewy grass enjoying a picnic, frolicking through sea and sand, making tender and passionate love all night and being together like they are destined to be. Today was not that day, but it would come, and when hearts are resolute in unity to fight the odds to be together, nothing or no-one can put them asunder.