Dear Viji,
Petrichor - as I mentioned one of my favourite words - and the word in itself if enough to bring memories of rain drenched earth - as though the air is rejoicing the mingling of the rain and the parched earth. The start itself is of hope, that just as the earth rejoices in the rain and puts on its greenest hues in celebration, soon the parched dry soul of Sanskaar, burning under Swara's accusation, would soon find succour under the showers of her love.
Trade winds - I am sure you know that this is from mid-17th century English usage - "blow trade" - meaning blow steadily in the same direction and because of the importance of these winds to navigation, 18th-century etymologists were led erroneously to connect the word trade with commerce'.
What I loved in your usage of this for your title is that it is so synonymous with Sanskaar's love for Swara - always steady and forever towards her, come what may. Any normal human would have broken under such mistrust from Swara, but then as he is not a normal human - he is forged of purest steel, heated in the fires of hell, beaten by the blows of destiny, cooled by Swara's absolute and immediate forgiveness and shaped by her love. He will not
give up, on her or on himself.
Summer lightning - distant lightning without audible thunder - that is what is Kissan is - the alter ego of our thundering Sanskaar. As Sanskaar aptly realised, once his face was not clearly visible, Swara would have no problem with him and his presence would enable her to unlock the memories. Brilliant plan especially in its simplicity. Swara trusts easily, so once the face bringing that horrifying memory is not in front of her, she readily trusts Kissan. I was so hoping that at least one small memory - a tiny sliver, at least- would strike her and Swara has a brief glimpse of a different Sanskaar. But then, though all the songs fail to bring the memory, her mind is slowly waking to the fact that there are memories which are important and precious. If her being unable to grasp those memories, which so tantalising tempt her from the shadows of her mind, is disappointing to Swara, Sanskaar must be breaking - as each time he hopes she remembers, her failure to do so, just breaks his heart a little more. As he asks, how much longer can he go on? But even as he asks this question, he knows the answer, forever, if that is what is needed to bring her home.
Sanskaar was also bang on as to what would have the greatest impact on Swara - the re-creation of the stage for the most divine declaration of love, his love for her- it almost did. The moment Swara saw the stage decorations, she did not focus on the details, the lack of finesse (it being a prototype) - all her mind was focussed only on one thing - that this vision was the key to unlocking the most important memory that was buried deep in her mind, a memory which she now realises is the essence of her life. It is there, just waiting to be touched by her, a touch that is all needed to flood her mind with the memories. I was like, yes, yes, yes, this is it and...
Deadwood enters - can he not burn up😡 - he is so jealous those fires should be enough to do the job. I liked the way you wrote what his idea of love was - never allow that one you love to fly (a deep-rooted fear that they would never come back to him). He does not understand, when someone truly loves you, you are the skies in which they fly. If you break their wings because you could keep them with you, then you only own them, never their love.
Red Earth and pouring rain - such a beautiful analogy and so much in tune with your elemental personification of Sanskaar and Swara (Though I personally prefer the fire element for him, I agree that Sanskaar is quite earthy). And so synonymous with SwaSan here - Sanskaar waiting, parched and desperate, for Swara - much as the summer drained earth waits for the cool refreshing rain. And just as the rain bring with it twigs and pieces of deadwood, Swara comes home with Sahil. But she does appear so amicable with him, her days spent with Sanskaar in Kissan's avatar, might not have dislodged any elusive memories but they did give rise to a teeny weeny doubt that maybe her clearest memory was wrong. And a slight feeling that maybe Sahil should not be trusted. Indeed, when she looks up at him and smiles, it is a small smile but carries hope, so much hope that Sanskaar can smile in peace and joy.
BTW - you mentioned that a look of pure venomous bitterness and spite crossed Sahil's features - really, that guy could emote, even for a fleeting second?????. I so wish he got a glimpse of Sanskaar's reaction, him losing sleep over that look would be so soothing to me. (one of those good dreamy sleep moments for me)
A very lovely story - of hope and love. Maybe we could have another OS, continuing from where we left off and maybe, Sahil gets a real dose of what Sanskaar Maheshwari can do when someone dares to cross swords with him, when someone tries to harm those whom he loved.
lots of love,
Nyna
On a side note - I so loved that poem that I googled it and came across an article which mentioned that this poem was printed on a poster for the London Underground. I am giving the link for the article.
I tried to google for the poster but the link for the Poet Society did not yield any results😭. But I did come across this poster (https://karkanirka.org/2010/06/10/kurunthokai-40/) hope you like it.
Cricket
