Epistle 42: Room of Secrets
A/N: Hey there everyone! :D :D Here is the next update! :D :D
Happy Reading! :D :D
23rd March 2004:
How much longer am I supposed to go on like this, really?
There has got to be a stop to this. How many times are people going to tell me in a day that I'm illegitimate? How many times are people going to make me feel impure... like some sort of stain that has tainted the pure bloodline of the Parekh ancestry? Seriously, is it my fault that my mother conceived me in circumstances where she hasn't been able to prove till date that she was married and I'm not some kind of a... sin?
I'm tired of having to face the same thing over and over again. Maa is always viewed amongst the parents of my supposed 'friends' as some gold-digger who married my father for his money by using her looks as bait, while Papa is viewed as a typical man who may be the King of Dalal Street, but is a man at the end of the day who let a woman become his weakness, her looks more so than her brains.
And me? I'm viewed as some kind of charity that Papa bestowed upon Maa by allowing her to keep me and by giving me his name. I'm as good as non-existent in this orthodox society. Oh, she's illegitimate, so no she's not counted as a part of the Parekh family. Disha is our own blood, so yeah, sure! My friends may be there as friends for the sake of it, but I know all the things they speak behind my back, all the sly looks they give me every time I pass through them in between their conversations.
And the lesser said about the elders at home, the better. Today, we had a function at our house for Holi, and in front of all the guests (that'll be around a 300 odd people), Baa goes all, 'Why don't we burn her as well? That'll be one less evil sin in the world.' My hand containing some stray wooden blocks remained suspended near the bonfire (that I now realize roared so close to the back of my hand) in shock as several gasps and jeers echoed through the open ground, every single pair of eyes upon me, the emotion mostly unsympathetic.
What I wanted to do was throw the old woman into the bonfire but Ranveer caught my hand and took me away from there with dignity. By the time we were almost out of earshot, I could hear the serpentine whispers amongst the guests and my father's raised voice.
Ranveer tries to be there for me all the time, always trying to console me by saying how I shouldn't listen to what the world says. He says that what the people who I love think about me should matter. It's easier said than done. He has to bear must worse than me, but well... Ranveer's Ranveer. If I had even 1% of the strength and patience that he shows, I wouldn't be here hiding in the store room right now.
Even before he could speak anything, I threw his hand off and ran away as far as I could from his gentle eyes, hearing my name leave his lips several times. Since then, Papa, Maa, my cousins... everyone have tried getting me out from the room but I haven't spoken to any of them. No, even though it was my pain and it hurt to bear it alone, I would fight it this time. I had to stop relying on people to make things easier for me. I had to stop putting so much stock into what people thought about me.
That's it, I've had it!
I've been bearing the same nonsense day after day, day after day since nearly eight years now. Enough is enough! I'm not leaving the store room ever again now. This confine is going to be my only partner, my only solace. Not even Ranveer is allowed here. I know that it was originally his hiding spot but since he's found a new one, I don't see why I can't borrow it. He doesn't tell me where that new spot is, but I know every time he goes off radar. He had one such disappearance two days ago and returned back late in the evening, exhausted yet excited.
He doesn't tell me where he goes when he disappears like this for the entire day and I respect his decision. There is my nightmare that I haven't told him about yet (I don't see why, I haven't dreamt about it in three years now), so it's okay. He's allowed to keep this a secret too. But what I don't fail to notice is that every time he returns back from one of these mysterious disappearances, he's up to the brim with a new energy and new spirit to face Hell.
I don't know how he does it. It's like he's a human shield - always protecting me away from all worries, pains and troubles. Not just my shield, but everybody's in this house. No matter how many times he might he hurt, bruised or broken, his loyalty never wavers and his love never diminishes. If it's even possible, he only gets stronger. The crude tongue of the society gets to him too, I know. Much more so than he lets on because it would be stupid to say so otherwise. But he's my brave boy.
And that's why I cannot confide everything to Ranveer. I care about him too much to do that to him. Some battles were meant to be fought alone, and this was one such battle. Empowerment doesn't come from cowering behind the pretense of being too weak to fight against a harsh world. It comes when we finally decide to take a stand and ask to the world to bring it on.
And so say what they will, they cannot deny me the right of being human, the right of being one of them. They cannot take away my strength, my will power, my courage and my integrity. They cannot take away the love that my closest ones hold for me in their hearts, and they certainly cannot take away the happiness that I choose to feel and what I feel.
They cannot make a difference to what I want to achieve.
I'm not going to grow up to be a woman who needs men to protect her from a world that's dominated by them. Oh no, I'll make a mark of my own. I don't want to be known as Harshad Parekh's illegitimate daughter, or the abandoned girl who was pitifully brought home and accepted as one of their own. No again. One day, I'll be known to the world as Ishaani Parekh, a woman who has her own standing. A woman who all would look up to, rather than down upon.
I know that you must be thinking that I've lost it. A girl who's hiding in a store room talks about conquering the world and making a place in it. Well everybody has their moments of weakness, as Ranveer tells me. But what emerges from the weakness is where the first key to a success lies. This dusty old room will be where I bury yet another of my several anguished yells and fruitless tears that I've kept Ranveer away from. This room will bear testament to yet another one of those days.
But I'll find my strength through it all. I'll find my way.
Damn it, someone's knocking at the door. It must be Ranveer. Why did he have to come now?! I'm not prepared to face him yet. My walk of shame is still incomplete. Argh, can't anything ever go right for once? If only he'd stop hammering at the door! Just wait right here, I'll shoo him off and get back to you.
-x-
Okay, that took longer than I expected.
Seriously, what is the matter with me? I was supposed to shoo him away. What did I end up doing? I ended up yelling at him in a language neither of us understood until I burst into a fit of inconsolable tears. And rather than be offended at the way I yelled at him (it was rather rude), he simply entered the store room and shut the door behind him. He made me sit down upon the abandoned three-seater that I'd vacated minutes ago while he knelt upon the floor, staring at me sadly.
Even before he could say anything, I threw my arms around his shoulder and cried into his chest, his warm embrace only evoking the deepest emotions of anger and resentment that I'd been trying to suppress for so long. It broke out like a dormant volcano waiting for its discharge, and my outburst felt no difference. He hugged me back awkwardly as he stroked my hair in his customary loving gesture every time he consoled me.
I gripped at his shirt harder as I spoke some more gibberish, and yet even without it being intelligible, he understood it all. Separating from the hug after what felt like years, he wiped away my tears and smiled at me sadly, a tired sigh escaping his lips.
"I wish our lives weren't this stupid," he confessed. All I could do was give him an apologetic look.
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to remove my frustration over you... I just..." I tried telling him but somehow, words didn't seem so appropriate in that moment.
"Ishaani, every person is made differently," began Ranveer, getting the gist of what I wanted to tell him. "I can let my emotions implode and I have ways to work with that. You can never see through your emotions alone. They'll make you do crazy things if they implode. You are not made to live through pain alone," he added seriously, while I now stared at him in anger.
"Why are you always there for me like a shield? You shouldn't do so much for me... Always standing up for me, facing the world's bitter words for me, taking my share of pain and suffering..." I scolded him senselessly, hoping against hope that he would understand how grateful I was even though I never wanted him to go through so much for me in the first place.
He understood.
"Ishaani, I am your shield to protect you from the world," he replied sweetly, his smile even more so. And all I could wonder was how he could care about me so much.
"Why?" I asked him stupidly, and he chuckled.
"All questions don't have an answer to them, Ishaani," he replied pensively, his eyes now staring into my own gently.
Even though he'd grown as tall and lanky as a coconut tree in all these years with his hair falling upon his forehead like palm leaves, his eyes still held the same indepth it had when I'd seen him for the first time. It's a real wonder that for a Prefect Perfect like him, he didn't have the typical nerd combination of spectacles and braces or the clichd oiled/gelled hair (which would have made such a great combination to tease him with, mind you - but he's got such lovely texture that he doesn't need any of that wishy washy stuff). He prefers keeping a stubble though, which does look rather funny upon him at times, if I am to be honest. Boys.
Err, where was I? Oh yes!
I ran my hands through my hair in frustration at Ranveer's unhelpful response, though why I expected him to give a straight answer beat me. He always loved talking in circles when it came to things like this. But before I could say anything else, my eyes fell to the right to find a bowl of butterscotch ice-cream sitting patiently beside me. Ranveer must have brought it with him to make my mood better, and I missed it in my blur of emotions. He realized that I'd finally noticed the bowl when my head snapped back at him, now giving me a sheepish smile.
I shook my head as more tears poured out from my eyes.
"I don't know what will happen when I don't have you around me... God, I'll go mad!" I admitted looking at him, feeling as deranged as I must have looked to him in that minute.
Atleast I no longer have my braces on, or else I'd have looked the complete package with the curtain-like hair that I now have to live with. Puberty had to happen and ruin what was once absolutely silky smooth hair even though I must thank my stars that I've never had spectacles. Just a lot of baby fat in my cheeks and sudden bloating out of nowhere that made me look like an ugly duckling, whatever else Ranveer said otherwise. But atleast I look decent enough now - the transition is still on.
Where was I, damn it? Ah!
"You might turn into a leaking faucet, most probably," joked Ranveer in response to my embarrassing confession, and I smiled in spite of myself. "Better warn people about their plumbing arrangements," he says with mock concern.
"Why you-" I threatened as I slapped his shoulder playfully, both of us letting the light moment overcome the seriousness of the conversation. The moment I sobered down however, I confessed sincerely.
"You shouldn't be so selfless."
"I don't get you," shot back Ranveer, crunching his eyebrows in apparent confusion. Before I could explain, he went on a sudden rant.
"When I make fun of you and trouble you, it's wrong. When I beat you to it for Mota Babuji's affection, it's even more wrong. When I defend you, it's wrong. When I protect you, it's again wrong. Ishaani Parekh, you are a very mysterious girl," he added mischievously, sticking his tongue out at me.
"Okay, now you're just making me sound like a complaint box," I replied tartly, rolling my eyes at him.
"Thank God you finally admitted to it," he sighed dramatically, his burning eyes never leaving my own ones.
"Ranveer-" I began, slapping the back of his playfully but I stopped the moment he shrieked in pain, quickly retracting his hand away from my grasp. Looking at me suddenly with panic-stricken eyes, he hid his hand behind in a futile attempt.
"What happened? Are you alright?" I asked him worriedly, my eyes seeing through the pain that deceived his smooth features just moments ago.
"I- I'm alright... don't worry. Just overreacting," he added lamely, and it earned a well-deserved scowl from my end.
"Your face doesn't say so," I remarked suspiciously.
Ranveer's eyes darted all around the room in palpable nervousness and I could see him rack his brains to find for any excuse to change the topic. When he found none, he simply took to staring at the wall.
"Show me your hand," I told him finally, my voice suddenly barely above a whisper.
"What?" squeaked Ranveer in return as I saw him now perspire guiltily, evidently frustrated at his own slip of tongue. He was so good at the game of hiding things that he forgot that he, too, was human at times. There was always that one time when he would make a mistake inevitably.
"Your hand, now," I hissed at him in a dangerous whisper. Grudgingly, he brought out his hand for my scrutiny. "It's burnt," I remarked, wondering how he must have earned this latest injury.
"I... you... well..." replied Ranveer, now completely flustered. It took me a minute to actually realize what had exactly happened to it.
"Wait a minute, the bonfire... My hand was so close to it, and I was so stunned, I never realized... I thought the fire considered me as a sin too, that's why it didn't burn me..." I spoke rapidly, more to myself than to him, while he quickly withdrew his hand away.
I looked at him painfully, taking his injured hand gingerly within my own once again, my eyes seeking his soul through the confines of his eyes.
"Did you have your hand against my own all that time?" I asked him, my voice suddenly shaking with the horror of the pain he must have borne. He nodded his head slowly, and just like that, I exploded.
"Are you bloody insane!?"
Ranveer shook at the fury in my voice, refusing to now meet eyes with me. Regretting my second outburst immediately, I called out to him in a much gentler tone.
"Come here."
He was about to protest but I put my finger upon his lip, efficiently silencing him.
I pulled him up and make him sit beside me, his protests dying away upon his lips instantly. Dipping my hand in the rapidly melting ice-cream, I applied it gently upon the inflicted area, years of experience guiding me well. As was anticipated, Ranveer hissed slightly at the cooling sensation of the cold ice-cream against the burn, his eyes now shut. I smiled to myself as I applied some more, staring at his uncomfortable expression with slight worry.
He opened his eyes once I was done, smiling softly.
"I had brought the ice-cream for you, not myself," he remarked, slightly embarrassed.
"It doesn't matter... your need is greater than my own," I replied, blowing upon his ice-cream coated hand simultaneously. He let me minister his wounded hand silently, his eyes now simply wandering about the room vacantly. He remained stationary for a few minutes as though trying to collect his thoughts, while I did the same.
"I still remember the first time we sat over and I'd seen you put ice-cream upon your wounds when Baa had hit you," I commented randomly, not knowing why I chose to speak about this right now even though it caught his attention. He looked at me curiously, letting a bitter smile cross upon his face.
"Seven years ago, I remember," he added, not sure himself where this conversation was leading to now.
"Till date it amazes me that you find your cure in something like ice-cream," I remarked as I let his hand rest comfortably upon the cushion of the three-seater, staring at him now with a strange curiosity.
What had God really made him of?
"Well Maa always told me to put something cold upon the wound no make the pain less. It works," he replied honestly, directly meeting my gaze.
"What did I ever do to deserve you in my life, Ranveer?" I asked him suddenly, not caring about how stupid I sounded. It was a question I'd been asking myself for eight years now. He laughed whole-heartedly before shrugging his shoulders.
"I don't know about you but I think I must have done something pretty extraordinary to have you in mine," he admitted once again, his eyes speaking up for the volume of love that I could see in them. Snapping his fingers at me before I could go down my train of thoughts, he continued.
"And we need to get going, Falguni Maa was asking about you."
"You go on, I need to finish something," I replied, nodding my head rather absent-mindedly.
He shot me a quick smile and left the room with the bowl of ice-cream in hand, smiling serenely to himself. And I knew why. He had managed to make my mood better. That was always his biggest accomplishment because he did the impossible. Besides, he would never let me go through it alone because no matter what I said, we both knew that I was incompetent to fight my pain on my own. I need him to be there with me at all times, taking away my pain and making my world a happier place.
He cares enough about me to know the toll it takes upon me. And it's in moments like these where I realize how cowardly I am. He can hide away all of his pain with the broadest of smiles and yet he can take away all of my pain away as well. And what do I ever give him in return? Only the single assurance that I'm going to be there for him no matter what. And yet he even beats me to that so that I don't have to bear more than necessary.
Damn it, he cares too much!
And that's what worries me. He doesn't see any boundary as long as it protects his loved ones from harm, and he's ready to go through all lengths for that. And it frightens me. It's been eight years now since I first met him, and his intensity to love has only grown more and more with every passing day.
What worries me is the day he truly ever falls in love with someone. What if, God forbid, things go wrong? What if he isn't able to take the heartbreak? I dread to even think about the consequences, about what it would do to him. This is the time when attractions bloom, where infatuations feel like the deepest of loves. Ranveer isn't stupid, but his intensity to love is something I cannot even begin to measure.
And then there's me. I can love someone so blindly, letting that love become my greatest strength and yet my biggest vulnerability too. I can destroy myself and the world for that love, stopping at nothing to protect the ones who I truly love, no matter what it takes. Even if that meant doing the impossible... Even if that meant living in the dark as long as they could see light.
He has a huge heart to forgive and love, but some damages done can never be repaired. He could heal over time, oh yes, but would he ever become the same whole person if things ever went wrong? Goodness knows that I would never be the same. God, why am I even talking about this right now? But I'm so afraid... Not just for him, but for both of us. We love so differently but it all comes down to the same thing.
We love too much, and I'm afraid it is going to cost us just the same.
No! I wouldn't let this become my weakness. And Ranveer... he's my greatest source of strength, my greatest pillar of support. He's the one who reminds me every day how much more there is to be achieved and about how much more there is left to win over and conquer. The two of us have a long way to go and we have to remain strong for each other. I cannot let the two of us succumb to things like this.
We have to be with each other through the ordeal one of us goes through every time we're called a servant or an illegitimate offspring. Oh yes, that's what it is. An ordeal. Sometimes, I don't even understand how we've manage to live through this insanity for so long without cracking underneath the pressures and the stress. It's so stupid. It's either him bearing the abuses or me being reduced into tears that's been going on for the past eight years.
But our time would come as well. Oh yes, it would. But for now, we had to make peace with the fact that nothing was going to improve. We had to pave our own way through the obstacles that never seem inclined to be reduced. Oh well, they always say that the most precious of diamonds have to go through the agony of the most brutal fire to become what they do eventually. Maybe this is us in the making.
Who knows what's in store for us tomorrow?
Constructive criticism will be more than welcome and sorry for any typos. :D :D
Next chapter:
Epistle 43
Edited by LadyMeringue - 8 years ago
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