Woes Of Love - OS

Omkara stood on the stairs dispassionately gazing down at the vain, over- zealous gathering in the living room of his house. Light music filled the hall and people chatted over glasses of cocktails. A party. Conveniently in the absence of his brothers. Omkara felt his blood boil as his eyes found the man responsible. Tej Singh Oberoi stood at the door greeting his guests. Omkara made out the ghost of a complacent smile he donned even from the distance.

He loathed the man. His fists clenched in unadultered fury. Only that man had the capacity, the power to stir such intense forms of hatred inside him. Omkara closed his eyes momentarily to grasp the thread of self control he harbored. He inhaled deeply and the faces of his brothers and Grandmother filled his mind. With this thought, he descended the stairs quietly and joined the crowd.

Several heads turned to look at him and Omkara found faces he recognized, his father's business associates. Omkara subtly avoided interacting with anyone from the crowd. He noticed that he attracted a lot of female attention. He was dressed in a black three- piece suite unlike his usual dull t-shirts made of coarse cotton and faded jeans. However he had chosen to leave his hair open in an attempt to preserve some part of himself. He knew that he had cleaned up quite well, civilized in the words of Mr. Oberoi. The eyes which followed him saw the handsome, self- possessed, quiet man with the long hair, Omkara Singh Oberoi, the wise young man of the Oberoi mansion. Brilliance and calm incarnated. But none saw the storm raging inside the illusion of placidity. To the world he was perfection but beneath this perfection lay the scarred human being wreathing in agony unable to find a way out of the dark abyss of his own creation.

"Omkara..."

He heard his father calling out his name. Inhaling deeply he approached the man. Tej was talking to a man in a suite much like himself.

"Sidharth, I trust you have met my son Omkara."

Tej gestured to Omkara cheerily as he approached. Om stood still, his face pale at the sight of the man standing before him. Sidharth Vikram Rana looked up at Omkara with a slight smile. He was a tall man, taller than Omkara, in his early thirties, with a complexion bordering on mahagony. His sleek hair was shorter than Omkara's but still long enough to notice and a flicker of it hung loosely above his left eye brow. His dark brown eyes had a twinge of hazel in them and they shone with an emotion Omkara found hard to place. His face was well etched, chiseled like one of Om's statues and his body perfectly fit into the Armani suit he was wearing.

"Sidharth Vikram Rana..." Sidharth breathed out holding out a hand for him to shake.

Omkara shook himself out of the trance. Sidharth. Sidharth was standing before him. He felt Sidharth's gaze burning into him and felt the shadows coming back at full force, slowly he lifted his arm to take his hands. Omkara felt the jolt of electricity as soon as he touched his skin, his soul hummed as the touch ripped open every one of his ancient wounds leaving him in throes. Omkara looked up at his father, muttered words of excuse and turned around. He needed to leave. He needed to be away from him, his proximity. His contiguity was sheer agony, like shards of glass piercing his soul. His contiguity was rekindling the flames which he believed had died down long back. As soon as he reached the last step on the stairs he broke into a run.

---

Art was salvation. His succor. Art was his nectre which healed him. His slender fingers ploughed the dark clay in vehemence. His coat lay forgotten on the floor of his Art studio. His heavy breath echoed in the piercing silence of the room. Why was fate so cruel to him? The dough of clay slipped from his fingers and fell on to the board with a thud. Omkara felt the wetness on his face, the tears mingled with the sweat.

"Om..." Omkara stilled at the voice. His eyes closed in trepidation as he heard the sound of footsteps nearing him.

"Open your eyes Om."

His voice was a mere whisper. Omkara felt his eye lids rise against his will. Rage bubbled up inside him directed at his own weak self. His voice had that power over him. Sidharth stood before him in all his regal power. His face held grimness and worry lines covered the otherwise smooth forehead. Omkara found his voice.

"Why...Why are you here?"

Sidharth gazed down at him, his eyes finally bearing the agony of his heart. Omkara took a step backwards as if he believed the physical distance will abbreviate the bout of pain he was experiencing.

"For you...I am here for you."

Om's heart thumped harder as he heard the words. Hope, something he was striving hard not to rekindle was threatening to burn with all might. Om gulped, shook his head in an attempt to ward off the thoughts incurring his mind. He struggled to find his voice.

"I don't ...I don't need you. I...I have my brothers."

Sidharth sighed in exasperation.

"Where are they now, then? Where are they when you need them?"

Om's face darkened in fury. Why couldn't he accept that his brothers were the part of his soul? Sidharth looked at him agonizingly.

"I know you love them Om, but when they get to know the truth-"

"What truth?" Sidharth was cut off by Om's enraged voice." There aren't any. Even if there are my brothers would accept it." Om's voice faltered as he completed the sentence. Sidharth smiled sadly and took a step towards him stretching his hand out. Om hastily moved away from him in alarm.

"Omkara..." Sidharth's voice held hurt. Om felt the wetness of the tears running down his own face. He turned around unable to meet Sidharth's gaze. Om knew what was coming, he wanted to cover his ears but how could he when he had wished to hear those words from him every waking day for the past 5 years, when all his dreams were pervaded by him. He was powerless. He was vulnerable.

"Om...Why can't you accept it? Why can't you see that this...this is pointless? The distance you are trying to build between us is pointless. Why can't you see we...You and I are withering away in agony?" Sidharth's voice turned weary." Why can't you see that...that I love you? I love you Om...I love you."

Om's hands trembled as he restrained himself from looking at Sidharth. Sidharth loved him. The words felt like they were from an exquisite dream. The words evoked multitudes of emotions Om believed he was devoid of. How could he deny this? He was his conqueror. Sidharth did not care for the stench of pain he held. He understood the darkness he grew up with, he lived in it himself. Two imperfect souls. The imperfect love, yet perfect in every way. A paradox. Everything which defined him, nothing out of him. Like his Art.

Om felt Sidharth's palm sliding in to his own and the shards of reality jutted of his heart. Sidharth yanked him by his arm and made Om face him. Om was momentarily left in a trance as he met Sidharth's gaze. Sidharth beared his soul to Omkara. He was raw in that moment. Om saw the vulnerable child who struggled with his sexuality. The brooding young man who groped in the dark. The ruthless businessman who was bitter to the world. He saw the absolute love, abject terror and the plain agony of his heart. Omkara closed his eyes unable to bear the sight, overwhelmed by the intensity. Sidharth's palm found the side of his face.

"Say...say that you love me Om." His voice was a mere whisper.

"I don't ...I don't love you." Om pressed his eyelids closer.

"You love me." Sidharth whispered his voice calm as ever.

"You dis- disgust me." Omkara stammered.

"You are in love with me." Sidharth continued unaffected.

"I loathe you." Omkara's face contorted in an attempt to remain in control.

"But I love you." Sidharth's hand slid down to Omkara's neck and he laid his forehead on Om's. "Omkara, forget everything for a moment. It may be that you and I will not be together. It may be that this love will never find a destination. This love we cannot have, this defines us. You are an artist. Don't you see how everything else is insignificant? How trivial, inconsequential everything else is? You have loved and nothing, nothing can change this. There isn't anything you deem as impossible love, forbidden yes but not impossible, you are the one who is creating the impossible Omkara. You. Do not shy away from who you are Omkara. Let it infuse your being. Let it consume you for therein lies your true salvation." Sidharth detached himself from Omkara and turned to leave. Omkara's hands enveloped his form and he breathed out in fervor.

"I love you Sidharth. "