Posted:
Thank you all for your support for my OS attempt. 🤗 It really means a lot. 😳 Here is the OS posted again for your thoughts and comments. Mallika-e-OS, Writer-e-khaas, Lashy , your order is my command 😆
------
Maand: A calling from the countryside
I was not sure what was bumpier, the weathered, broken road or the roller coaster of my emotions as the bus screeched to a halt. I took a deep breath as I got off the bus. I didn't really know what to expect but there was no turning back either. I had to face it.
The irony that a villager's earthy voice traveled through the air with the song "Kesariya baalam aaonee". A woman's voice was calling out to her lover to come back with a beautiful tune in Raag Maand. Here, I was the one returning, or was I really?
I looked around at the crossroads and the fields around. I was not sure which direction I was supposed to turn. I scanned the e-mails on my phone- where was that one again? Finally found it. The directions to the Armaan Organic Farm. Armaan (hope) indeed. What a different Armaan it had been before.
Focusing myself back the present, I began my walk. It was not a far walk, the bus company had assured. A mere five minute walk they had said. But, it couldn't have been so short because it felt like an eternity. Perhaps, my feet were really tired or perhaps, they dragged as they didn't want to face what was ahead.
Suddenly, I and the weariness along with me stopped in our tracks. There he was. He would stand out in any crowd. Even in the same crisp white dhoti, crisp white shirt of those around him, he managed to stand tall. The profile of his face was distinct and sharp, exactly as I remembered it. Nothing much had changed except a new moustache, which personally I felt suited him, but that was besides the point. His eyebrows were showing signs of worry, he seemed in serious conversation. I wasn't sure how to disturb them- he was in the audience of more than ten people. Disturbing them would have been awkward. After all, how would I have said who I was.
Suddenly, I saw him look in my direction ... for a moment, one of many times today, my heart stopped. Maybe my poor heart was not sure what to feel- my mind abuses it so. If he had noticed me, he hardly made it clear. There were likely more pressing matters at hand for him.
Not knowing how to interrupt, I waited. And waited. After another eternity, finally the group around him dispersed. He walked towards me. He had noticed me after all. His worried expression seemed to soften as he came closer. A familiar baritone filled the air, "Jodha, you here? All of a sudden."
I didn't know exactly how to respond. Speaking directly was never my forte like it was his. Finally my voice that had deserted me, returned - although it was a weaker version of my usual voice. "Well, you know we had some unfinished matters, it is better that we ..." As my voice trailed off, Akbar's nod acknowledged that he got what I meant.
It was unfinished matters indeed. Unfinished for two years. His voice finished my thought for me, "You have brought the divorce papers?" And, it was my turn to nod.
Who would have thought five years ago that this is where we would be standing today. What had happened that we had reached this point?
When we had met at Delhi University there was an instant connect - two young, energized students who felt we had the power to change the world. Our passion was social impact- whether setting up a school in a village or helping build a bridge or raising funds for the local orphanage. With every village we visited, every social project we did, every dinner we had together, we seemed inseparable. We seemed to have a bond that would never break.
And in the excitement of that age or maybe the craziness of that college environment, we didn't want it to ever break. As our final year started, we knew family pressures would be after us soon. Once he returned to his home in interior UP and me to my family back in Mumbai, things would be difficult. So, one morning we found ourselves in the registrar's office signing our names next to each other and joining our names and lives for what seemed like forever.
The six months that followed were the most beautiful days of our lives ... starting from the excited and mischievous banter of our friends' when we returned from the registrar's office to a two week holiday in the beautiful backwaters of Thekkady in Kerala to our final mid-term project in the Kutch District of Gujarat.
Yet, one never knows when change enters your life. It likely was more gradual than I thought. As I saw more and more poverty, as we helped one village at a time, something felt wrong. There must be a better way to help people. There must be a better way.
Every time I saw the villagers' struggles, the more what we were doing seemed futile ... it really wasn't moving the needle. A conversation with one girl particularly bothered me ... she said, "you have so many opportunities in the city, to do something big, what are you doing here ... what can you do helping one tiny village." She lamented how she would do so much more if she had the opportunities I had. From that moment, a doubt lingered in my mind, what was I doing with my life?
Maybe it was the business background of my family or just destiny, but as graduation neared I had shifted focus on the corporate world. It all made sense in my head - get a corporate job, earn a lot more money, donate and give back to help many more people than a village at a time. Same outcome, just a lot more people helped.
But Akbar's mind and heart was unshakeable ... his heart beat in the villages where we had spent much of the last few years together. He had always said he wanted to work in the villages. I had too. We had imagined going from village to village, witnessing the diverse sights of India at the same time. However, I felt as humans, we should be given a chance to change- my point was we would still be able to help people in other ways. But, he would not budge.
In a span of months, if not weeks, the arguments turned into anger which turned into bitterness which turned into something worse. And soon enough, our love of three years fell weak to our own ambitions. I still remember that moment when we graduated. What should have been one of the proudest, happiest days of our lives, was filled with a gnawing pain, gnawing emptiness. It felt incomplete as we were not smiling at each other, looking at each other, sharing the moment with each other. I still remember the last fleeting image of him entering his taxi - he was headed off to Rajasthan to pursue his next village adventure. I stayed in Delhi to work at an advertising firm, trying to drown my loneliness in the world of work. And I am sure he kept himself busy as well to fill the same void. Just a mere 4-5 busy ad projects and two years easily flew by for me. Suddenly, I found myself staring back at two years behind me.
I was also staring back at two years of emptiness behind me. Common friends and social networking made sure I knew what Akbar was doing. I needed to know he was okay. I am sure he did the same.
Despite all this, you may say it was ego, but something stopped me from reaching out to him. Eventually, the emptiness was unbearable- I had to pull the plug somehow and move on. I felt like it would be too much to try to ask him to be back in my life; asking for a divorce seemed easier. I convinced myself that divorce was the best option for him too as I didn't want to hold him back from his dreams either. At least, that is how I justified it to myself.
I had dug up his latest address and sent notification via lawyers. But, there was no response. And finally, I decided to trek up to see him myself. Somewhere my heart wanted to believe that he wanted me to do the same. And though I would not admit it, my heart did too.
Lost in these rumbles of the past, I realized we had walked a bit of distance. Suddenly my thoughts were shaken back to the present, as we were both in front of the Armaan Organic Farm. It was Akbar's dream to help farmers run more sustainable businesses. He had started it from scratch and today it was one of the best recognized agricultural NGO's in India.
But, Armaan (hope) had meant something else and a wistful memory fleeted before my eyes. That minute I knew he was sharing the same sentiment. That beautiful evening in Thekkidy, one week after our wedding. In the beautiful sheen of moonlight, on a boat, we had shared a dream- a dream of our first child. As a typical film scene, he had insisted our first child should br a daughter like me, and I wanted a boy like him first. As if, it was in our hands! Yet, I had shared with him the name I had chosen for our son- Armaan, to represent the hope we had for us and all the people's lives we tried to touch.
A year and a half ago, when I had heard that Akbar had started Armaan Organic Farm, my heart had fluttered. I knew he was thinking of me. I was expecting him to tell me, to call me back to him. But, that call never came. And I was equally obstinate.
He interrupted both our thoughts, "Thank you," he suddenly said, taking me off guard. I gave a puzzled look but something was making my cheeks redden already.
He continued, his old mischief returning, "Did you think I didn't know who one of the biggest donors to this organic farm was?" I flustered. Ever since one of our Facebook friends had "liked" the launch of Armaan, I had continued to follow its rise. Seeing its promise, I had donated, but in the guise of the company I worked for. So, how had he known?
And like old times, showing how in sync are thoughts could be even now, he answered before I could ask, "I am not that cut off from the world that I don't know where you work." And with our banter from old days returning, his signature smirk was returning as well.
The silence around us was asking the same question that was on both of our minds: if we had been so connected, then, why had there been silence for these past two years?
I heard a sigh, or something like one. He finally said in a gruffer voice, "Yes, I will sign those papers. What will papers break that these few years haven't already? But, I have a condition ..."
As his voice trailed, I was on-guard to protest, protest whatever he was about to say. But I was also eager to hear what he was about to say. I chose to say nothing knowing he would continue as he said, "I would like us to spend this day together - just this one day."
And something made me stay silent. Instead of the protests I had planned, I just lowered my eyes down with a gentle nod of agreement. At that moment, there didn't seem anything more that I would wanted. So, we started walking down the organic fields - he showed the different kind of pulses that were growing, the progess they had made from how they had started. The pride from his face shone as he showed what they had accomplished. A barren land transformed into a fertile fortune for those all around. And his pride soon was reflecting on my own face. This was the man I had fallen in love with, this was the sense of purpose I had loved him for.
A comfort level soon returned. I started thinking of what had left him so worried earlier that day and wanted to ask. But, I didn't have to. I would find out myself. Suddenly I heard a soft cry from him, a drip of blood trickling down his forehead. A rock had been pelted at him. Soon more rocks arrived from an unknown direction. They were shouting something against him- telling him to leave their place and their land.
Without a thought, I turned my back to these protesters and shielded Akbar. My Akbar, who was trying to stay strong amidst pain. My arms instinctively held him in an embrace and I felt like I had come back home. The pain of the rocks at my back felt like nothing- nothing compared to that feeling of protecting him and loving him that I felt that moment.
He was falling faint and my strength to hold him up was quickly waning. Luckily more farmers emerged and chased the protesters away. These were farmers that worked with Armaan and I could see how much they loved and revered Akbar and what he had done for them. Suddenly, I found myself drawn in to this beautiful microcosm that Akbar had built - his own little world. And what a chaotic situation for me to make such a realization.
Soon, Akbar was seen by a local doctor. The farmers had rushed to get the doctor over immediately. However, there was nothing to worry about. A bit of antiseptic, a few bandages, an injection, and a dose of sleep and he would be ready to go. As Akbar slept there, peacefully, he looked like a little boy. I found myself staring at this endearing sight, a sight I had cherished waking up to every morning a few years back.
I don't know what the farmers and others knew about me, but they knew something. They left me alone with him. I went up near to his bedside and saw that signature smile I had observed many a time as he had a habit of smiling in his sleep. Old memories made me blush and I knelt down next to him to gently caress his forehead, avoiding the recent bruises.
I was lost in that moment, when a young man with glasses hesitatingly knocked. "Bhabhiji" he said. I was surprised. How did he call me sister-in-law. He had come to inquire if I needed something, but I had more questions for him.
I stepped out and first asked him , who he was and who were those protestors. He introduced himself as Kishore, pretty much Akbar's right hand man. He explained how a neighboring politician had issues with Akbar's growing popularity and was trying to instigate some farmers against what Akbar was trying to change with organic farming. Okay, that explained the worries from the morning. Yet, that hardly was the most burning question that remained in my mind.
Finally, I asked him how he knew about me. He fidgeted for a while, not sure exactly how to explain. Finally, after some random chitchat to avoid the topic at hand, he opened up, "Early on, bhaijaan (as he called Akbar as his brother) was very quiet. But over the past year, there was not a day when bhaijaan didn't talk about you. The work that you had done, the dreams you had shared." I was taken aback, my mind raced, "Every day? Where had the bitterness I remembered disappeared? Why had Akbar left from my life then?" The questions and confusions on my face must have been clear.
Kishore seemed to want to do something for his "bhaijaan" and me, and he continued, "I also asked bhaijaan, 'then why the silence?'. He never could quite answer. But, he was very proud of what you were accomplishing and somewhere he didn't want to hold you back."
I was further taken aback. Here was a shy guy, a few years younger to me, and he seemed to be wiser than Akbar and I combined. Though I wouldn't admit his wisdom immediately to myself and probably never directly to him. I asked for a glass of water and he departed - likely knowing that I needed to be left to my thoughts.
The next few hours, while I waited for Akbar to awake, felt like another eternity. How many eternities could one experience in a day? I guess many. Memories of the past flashed before me. In totally filmy style, a teardrop fell from my face to his, and he started to shift in his sleep. Soon, his eyes opened to face my own tear-striken face.
He knew I knew. He knew what I still felt for him. And the silence spoke the rest of it. Egos, bitterness, and any other hurdles evaporated like the day that was quickly setting with the sun. His arms reached out to me and I rushed right into them. Being there with him was the only place that felt like home in the past two years. All other successes and achievements paled in comparison.
Perhaps, he had aways known that. That is why he had not signed the divorce papers. That is why he had somehow called me here in his own way. That is why I also went.
So, how did we resolve what caused the issue in the first place? I don't know , it somehow just solved. Being there with him just seemed right and I never ended up boarding the bus back.
Had I just given up my own perspectives? Maybe, but maybe not. Somewhere I realized Akbar had understood where I was coming from and the void I felt in what we were doing. Volunteering and wandering across random projects wouldn't be enough- we had to do something longer lasting. That is why he set up Armaan Organic Farms to be self-sufficient- the crops more than paid for itself, and would continue to benefit farmers long after we left them. That Akbar was understanding my point of view meant something to me.
In any case, there was no other place I wanted to be other than working side-by-side with him again, being side-by-side with him again.
However, my identity didn't disappear either- I soon started my own business. It was a traditional Indian fashion line to support the local handicrafts and handloom industries around me. It brought together what I had grown to like in the corporate world but allowed me to stay close to the village women I wanted to empower. Akbar supported me every step of the way- helping me navigate the right contacts and connections to get it going.
And five years later, another branch of Armaan Organic Farm opened, and it was opened by our own little Armaan, our mischievous three year old that had become the center of our lives.
During the celebrations, I heard a village lady sing , "Kesariya baalam aaonee" and I realized the song had been calling me to return after all.
------
Maand: A calling from the countryside
I was not sure what was bumpier, the weathered, broken road or the roller coaster of my emotions as the bus screeched to a halt. I took a deep breath as I got off the bus. I didn't really know what to expect but there was no turning back either. I had to face it.
The irony that a villager's earthy voice traveled through the air with the song "Kesariya baalam aaonee". A woman's voice was calling out to her lover to come back with a beautiful tune in Raag Maand. Here, I was the one returning, or was I really?
I looked around at the crossroads and the fields around. I was not sure which direction I was supposed to turn. I scanned the e-mails on my phone- where was that one again? Finally found it. The directions to the Armaan Organic Farm. Armaan (hope) indeed. What a different Armaan it had been before.
Focusing myself back the present, I began my walk. It was not a far walk, the bus company had assured. A mere five minute walk they had said. But, it couldn't have been so short because it felt like an eternity. Perhaps, my feet were really tired or perhaps, they dragged as they didn't want to face what was ahead.
Suddenly, I and the weariness along with me stopped in our tracks. There he was. He would stand out in any crowd. Even in the same crisp white dhoti, crisp white shirt of those around him, he managed to stand tall. The profile of his face was distinct and sharp, exactly as I remembered it. Nothing much had changed except a new moustache, which personally I felt suited him, but that was besides the point. His eyebrows were showing signs of worry, he seemed in serious conversation. I wasn't sure how to disturb them- he was in the audience of more than ten people. Disturbing them would have been awkward. After all, how would I have said who I was.
Suddenly, I saw him look in my direction ... for a moment, one of many times today, my heart stopped. Maybe my poor heart was not sure what to feel- my mind abuses it so. If he had noticed me, he hardly made it clear. There were likely more pressing matters at hand for him.
Not knowing how to interrupt, I waited. And waited. After another eternity, finally the group around him dispersed. He walked towards me. He had noticed me after all. His worried expression seemed to soften as he came closer. A familiar baritone filled the air, "Jodha, you here? All of a sudden."
I didn't know exactly how to respond. Speaking directly was never my forte like it was his. Finally my voice that had deserted me, returned - although it was a weaker version of my usual voice. "Well, you know we had some unfinished matters, it is better that we ..." As my voice trailed off, Akbar's nod acknowledged that he got what I meant.
It was unfinished matters indeed. Unfinished for two years. His voice finished my thought for me, "You have brought the divorce papers?" And, it was my turn to nod.
Who would have thought five years ago that this is where we would be standing today. What had happened that we had reached this point?
When we had met at Delhi University there was an instant connect - two young, energized students who felt we had the power to change the world. Our passion was social impact- whether setting up a school in a village or helping build a bridge or raising funds for the local orphanage. With every village we visited, every social project we did, every dinner we had together, we seemed inseparable. We seemed to have a bond that would never break.
And in the excitement of that age or maybe the craziness of that college environment, we didn't want it to ever break. As our final year started, we knew family pressures would be after us soon. Once he returned to his home in interior UP and me to my family back in Mumbai, things would be difficult. So, one morning we found ourselves in the registrar's office signing our names next to each other and joining our names and lives for what seemed like forever.
The six months that followed were the most beautiful days of our lives ... starting from the excited and mischievous banter of our friends' when we returned from the registrar's office to a two week holiday in the beautiful backwaters of Thekkady in Kerala to our final mid-term project in the Kutch District of Gujarat.
Yet, one never knows when change enters your life. It likely was more gradual than I thought. As I saw more and more poverty, as we helped one village at a time, something felt wrong. There must be a better way to help people. There must be a better way.
Every time I saw the villagers' struggles, the more what we were doing seemed futile ... it really wasn't moving the needle. A conversation with one girl particularly bothered me ... she said, "you have so many opportunities in the city, to do something big, what are you doing here ... what can you do helping one tiny village." She lamented how she would do so much more if she had the opportunities I had. From that moment, a doubt lingered in my mind, what was I doing with my life?
Maybe it was the business background of my family or just destiny, but as graduation neared I had shifted focus on the corporate world. It all made sense in my head - get a corporate job, earn a lot more money, donate and give back to help many more people than a village at a time. Same outcome, just a lot more people helped.
But Akbar's mind and heart was unshakeable ... his heart beat in the villages where we had spent much of the last few years together. He had always said he wanted to work in the villages. I had too. We had imagined going from village to village, witnessing the diverse sights of India at the same time. However, I felt as humans, we should be given a chance to change- my point was we would still be able to help people in other ways. But, he would not budge.
In a span of months, if not weeks, the arguments turned into anger which turned into bitterness which turned into something worse. And soon enough, our love of three years fell weak to our own ambitions. I still remember that moment when we graduated. What should have been one of the proudest, happiest days of our lives, was filled with a gnawing pain, gnawing emptiness. It felt incomplete as we were not smiling at each other, looking at each other, sharing the moment with each other. I still remember the last fleeting image of him entering his taxi - he was headed off to Rajasthan to pursue his next village adventure. I stayed in Delhi to work at an advertising firm, trying to drown my loneliness in the world of work. And I am sure he kept himself busy as well to fill the same void. Just a mere 4-5 busy ad projects and two years easily flew by for me. Suddenly, I found myself staring back at two years behind me.
I was also staring back at two years of emptiness behind me. Common friends and social networking made sure I knew what Akbar was doing. I needed to know he was okay. I am sure he did the same.
Despite all this, you may say it was ego, but something stopped me from reaching out to him. Eventually, the emptiness was unbearable- I had to pull the plug somehow and move on. I felt like it would be too much to try to ask him to be back in my life; asking for a divorce seemed easier. I convinced myself that divorce was the best option for him too as I didn't want to hold him back from his dreams either. At least, that is how I justified it to myself.
I had dug up his latest address and sent notification via lawyers. But, there was no response. And finally, I decided to trek up to see him myself. Somewhere my heart wanted to believe that he wanted me to do the same. And though I would not admit it, my heart did too.
Lost in these rumbles of the past, I realized we had walked a bit of distance. Suddenly my thoughts were shaken back to the present, as we were both in front of the Armaan Organic Farm. It was Akbar's dream to help farmers run more sustainable businesses. He had started it from scratch and today it was one of the best recognized agricultural NGO's in India.
But, Armaan (hope) had meant something else and a wistful memory fleeted before my eyes. That minute I knew he was sharing the same sentiment. That beautiful evening in Thekkidy, one week after our wedding. In the beautiful sheen of moonlight, on a boat, we had shared a dream- a dream of our first child. As a typical film scene, he had insisted our first child should br a daughter like me, and I wanted a boy like him first. As if, it was in our hands! Yet, I had shared with him the name I had chosen for our son- Armaan, to represent the hope we had for us and all the people's lives we tried to touch.
A year and a half ago, when I had heard that Akbar had started Armaan Organic Farm, my heart had fluttered. I knew he was thinking of me. I was expecting him to tell me, to call me back to him. But, that call never came. And I was equally obstinate.
He interrupted both our thoughts, "Thank you," he suddenly said, taking me off guard. I gave a puzzled look but something was making my cheeks redden already.
He continued, his old mischief returning, "Did you think I didn't know who one of the biggest donors to this organic farm was?" I flustered. Ever since one of our Facebook friends had "liked" the launch of Armaan, I had continued to follow its rise. Seeing its promise, I had donated, but in the guise of the company I worked for. So, how had he known?
And like old times, showing how in sync are thoughts could be even now, he answered before I could ask, "I am not that cut off from the world that I don't know where you work." And with our banter from old days returning, his signature smirk was returning as well.
The silence around us was asking the same question that was on both of our minds: if we had been so connected, then, why had there been silence for these past two years?
I heard a sigh, or something like one. He finally said in a gruffer voice, "Yes, I will sign those papers. What will papers break that these few years haven't already? But, I have a condition ..."
As his voice trailed, I was on-guard to protest, protest whatever he was about to say. But I was also eager to hear what he was about to say. I chose to say nothing knowing he would continue as he said, "I would like us to spend this day together - just this one day."
And something made me stay silent. Instead of the protests I had planned, I just lowered my eyes down with a gentle nod of agreement. At that moment, there didn't seem anything more that I would wanted. So, we started walking down the organic fields - he showed the different kind of pulses that were growing, the progess they had made from how they had started. The pride from his face shone as he showed what they had accomplished. A barren land transformed into a fertile fortune for those all around. And his pride soon was reflecting on my own face. This was the man I had fallen in love with, this was the sense of purpose I had loved him for.
A comfort level soon returned. I started thinking of what had left him so worried earlier that day and wanted to ask. But, I didn't have to. I would find out myself. Suddenly I heard a soft cry from him, a drip of blood trickling down his forehead. A rock had been pelted at him. Soon more rocks arrived from an unknown direction. They were shouting something against him- telling him to leave their place and their land.
Without a thought, I turned my back to these protesters and shielded Akbar. My Akbar, who was trying to stay strong amidst pain. My arms instinctively held him in an embrace and I felt like I had come back home. The pain of the rocks at my back felt like nothing- nothing compared to that feeling of protecting him and loving him that I felt that moment.
He was falling faint and my strength to hold him up was quickly waning. Luckily more farmers emerged and chased the protesters away. These were farmers that worked with Armaan and I could see how much they loved and revered Akbar and what he had done for them. Suddenly, I found myself drawn in to this beautiful microcosm that Akbar had built - his own little world. And what a chaotic situation for me to make such a realization.
Soon, Akbar was seen by a local doctor. The farmers had rushed to get the doctor over immediately. However, there was nothing to worry about. A bit of antiseptic, a few bandages, an injection, and a dose of sleep and he would be ready to go. As Akbar slept there, peacefully, he looked like a little boy. I found myself staring at this endearing sight, a sight I had cherished waking up to every morning a few years back.
I don't know what the farmers and others knew about me, but they knew something. They left me alone with him. I went up near to his bedside and saw that signature smile I had observed many a time as he had a habit of smiling in his sleep. Old memories made me blush and I knelt down next to him to gently caress his forehead, avoiding the recent bruises.
I was lost in that moment, when a young man with glasses hesitatingly knocked. "Bhabhiji" he said. I was surprised. How did he call me sister-in-law. He had come to inquire if I needed something, but I had more questions for him.
I stepped out and first asked him , who he was and who were those protestors. He introduced himself as Kishore, pretty much Akbar's right hand man. He explained how a neighboring politician had issues with Akbar's growing popularity and was trying to instigate some farmers against what Akbar was trying to change with organic farming. Okay, that explained the worries from the morning. Yet, that hardly was the most burning question that remained in my mind.
Finally, I asked him how he knew about me. He fidgeted for a while, not sure exactly how to explain. Finally, after some random chitchat to avoid the topic at hand, he opened up, "Early on, bhaijaan (as he called Akbar as his brother) was very quiet. But over the past year, there was not a day when bhaijaan didn't talk about you. The work that you had done, the dreams you had shared." I was taken aback, my mind raced, "Every day? Where had the bitterness I remembered disappeared? Why had Akbar left from my life then?" The questions and confusions on my face must have been clear.
Kishore seemed to want to do something for his "bhaijaan" and me, and he continued, "I also asked bhaijaan, 'then why the silence?'. He never could quite answer. But, he was very proud of what you were accomplishing and somewhere he didn't want to hold you back."
I was further taken aback. Here was a shy guy, a few years younger to me, and he seemed to be wiser than Akbar and I combined. Though I wouldn't admit his wisdom immediately to myself and probably never directly to him. I asked for a glass of water and he departed - likely knowing that I needed to be left to my thoughts.
The next few hours, while I waited for Akbar to awake, felt like another eternity. How many eternities could one experience in a day? I guess many. Memories of the past flashed before me. In totally filmy style, a teardrop fell from my face to his, and he started to shift in his sleep. Soon, his eyes opened to face my own tear-striken face.
He knew I knew. He knew what I still felt for him. And the silence spoke the rest of it. Egos, bitterness, and any other hurdles evaporated like the day that was quickly setting with the sun. His arms reached out to me and I rushed right into them. Being there with him was the only place that felt like home in the past two years. All other successes and achievements paled in comparison.
Perhaps, he had aways known that. That is why he had not signed the divorce papers. That is why he had somehow called me here in his own way. That is why I also went.
So, how did we resolve what caused the issue in the first place? I don't know , it somehow just solved. Being there with him just seemed right and I never ended up boarding the bus back.
Had I just given up my own perspectives? Maybe, but maybe not. Somewhere I realized Akbar had understood where I was coming from and the void I felt in what we were doing. Volunteering and wandering across random projects wouldn't be enough- we had to do something longer lasting. That is why he set up Armaan Organic Farms to be self-sufficient- the crops more than paid for itself, and would continue to benefit farmers long after we left them. That Akbar was understanding my point of view meant something to me.
In any case, there was no other place I wanted to be other than working side-by-side with him again, being side-by-side with him again.
However, my identity didn't disappear either- I soon started my own business. It was a traditional Indian fashion line to support the local handicrafts and handloom industries around me. It brought together what I had grown to like in the corporate world but allowed me to stay close to the village women I wanted to empower. Akbar supported me every step of the way- helping me navigate the right contacts and connections to get it going.
And five years later, another branch of Armaan Organic Farm opened, and it was opened by our own little Armaan, our mischievous three year old that had become the center of our lives.
During the celebrations, I heard a village lady sing , "Kesariya baalam aaonee" and I realized the song had been calling me to return after all.
Fan Fictions
Anupamaa
377