A ccompleted one shot, my loves, fleshing out what can happen if Shivaay allows his obsession of NKK to take over his life. If he silences his words when the time comes to say them out loud, and keep his Anika by his side. Featuring Mahi Singh Oberoi, as well--because he is ridiculously hot too, isn't he? 😆 Enjoy, comment and like!
NAAM KHOON AUR KHANDAN
The poolside was where his twin would be, and since it was by now past midnight, he would be unconscious. Mahi quirked his lips, and thought ironically about what people always said about twins. Cosmic connection and all that. Brothers who started life sharing one womb had to become adults who just KNEW what was happening with their other half. Who felt their bond along some unknown wavelength known to identical siblings, and to them only. That's what was said, about twins anyway.
But the fact that Shivaay was at the poolside-- and that he was going to be drunk--- Mahi knew this without any of that identical twin sensing each other crap. He knew it because that was where Shivaay ended up, every night. Where Mahi found his brother every night. From where Mahi half dragged, half carried an unconscious Shivaay into his bedroom, before Mummay found her heera beta passed out and stinking of whiskey when she made her rounds in the morning.
So. Poolside.
The light wavered grey and blue, sending waves of crystalline color that shimmered across the sprawled man in the three piece suit. Shivaay was slumped over the bar, one elegant hand stretched out before him, head buried into his arms as if the dim light was still too much for him. His whiskey shone amber in the cut crystal glass, but even half drunk, Shivaay looked ..expensive. Mahi thought, admiringly-- Posh! Breeding, sala!! Mahi had never become comfortable in the confining suits Shivaay loved to wear. While pretending to be Shivaay, all those months ago, it was the suits he'd hated the most. Now that he was a member of his actual, real family, Mahi was just happy they didn't try to stuff him into some Shivaay version 2 suit wearing businessman. He was allowed to...just be Mahi.
And while Mahi Singh Oberoi was not interested in the business crap and the society crap and the money making crap, he liked the charity stuff that the Oberois did. That part-- that wasn't crap. So he did that, he got involved in that. And he found, to his shock and embarrassment, that he was really good at spending money on doing really good things. On clinics and orphanages and old age homes that were run with decency and not with the usual corrupt bull. He even liked it, liked working to make life better for kids and women and old people, people who he could help using the resources of the Oberoi Trust that he now ran. And what he liked the most about this? He could do it all in jeans and a normal regular person wala shirt. Mahi had toned down the chawl tapori wardrobe, sure. Here, in the Mansion, that look didn't.. go.. somehow. But hell, even toned down, it wasn't anything like the three piece designer threads currently sagging off Shivaay's body, that was for damn sure.
He was about to haul his brother up, when Shivaay stirred, lifted his head, and stared at him, bleary eyed. A wave of something.. shock... sadness...shame.. passed over his face, and Mahi sat down next to him, carefully moving Shivaay's jacket to the side of the bar. Tonight, he would have to wait, it seemed.
Taking out his mouth organ, he edged closer to Shivaay, who was already into his fifth drink. Another glass was pushed in his direction, brimming with whiskey. The expensive 30 year old stuff, no desi daru for his perfect classy brother, of course. Wordlessly, Mahi took the glass, because Shivaay hated it when he didn't. Shivaay wouldn't talk, if Mahi didn't sit with him, pick up a drink as well. Share in this horrible ritual. Wouldn't empty himself of the day's poison, without Mahi also drinking as well. But practice made perfect. And turning his head, Mahi pretended to sip the drink as Shivaay stared down again, looking for god knew what inside his full crystal glass. Inspiration perhaps, for tonight's session. Tonight's memories that haunted him too much to make it through another evening without enough alcohol to numb the pain.
"She was wearing a black kurta, and my friend's party was NOT supposed to be catered by such a down market girl. Tu jaanti nahi, Mahi! Kitne bure cooking karte hai woh. Kitne buri! But the one thing she could make is alu puri, and still, what did she serve me? Jaale hui pasta. And she wanted to do catering! Hah! I told Khanna to get her there, of course, but I didn't think Khanna was going to become her fan too, yaar. Thats when the fan girling started with Khanna. But I went there, all dressed up-- bowtie and all, you know.
I was excited, ok! And she was wearing this black kurta, very fitted, with pompoms.. so unclassy, pompoms!! But fit acchi thi, yeah? I couldn't stop staring, it was so.. odd. Like her. Long earrings, all shiny, and her Anika bracelet, winking at me. I can say it to you, Bhai! I got there really early, and I had at least ten different plans ready. To cut her arrogance down to size!
But her hair was open, long curls, you know, down her back, and she made SUCH a face when she saw me, I forgot like, half of the plans... and she did the hair thing. Copied me, my signature move. I was..I don't even know, right now I still can't tell you what I was feeling, but itna bata sakti hu, somehow, angry nahi tha. But Kitna copy karti thi yaar, that was when I should have known she was ek number ki copycat. But kuch pata nahi tha, aage kya hone wala hai. If I had known, I would have..I would have run, I swear. But uss waqt I just wanted her to pay, like I told you. So I thought if she was to set my friend's painting on fire..."
This night's story started. At first, Mahi had loved to hear them. 100 days ago, at the very beginning of all this, he had loved the feeling of discovery and delight they gave him. The stories about how his brother had met his ex-wife were, for lack of a better word-- crazy. The story of his Shivaay and his Bhabi. At first, sitting here at night, drink in hand, listening to Shivaay's memories of his love, Mahi had felt included. Like he was being given a part of Shivaay, a part that Rudra and Omkara had seen already, and it was now Mahi's turn to share. But that was back when he hadn't realized what the hell was happening here, every night. Back then, when in his innocence, in his happiness to be a part of Shivaay's life, Mahi hadn't realized he was being asked to participate in this sick ritual symbolizing Shivaay's death, instead.
The stories no longer made Mahi feel anything but numb, his blood freezing at the pain they were threaded with. Made him catch his breath at the pain of loss, the pain of burning love, that still beat in Shivaay's frozen heart. Made him angry, furiously, helplessly angry at the sheer, baffling waste of it all. But he had to do this for Shivaay. Brotherhood. Blood. Love. Mahi had to do this, who else would? And so he did. So he sat here, and took the stories in with a smile on his face, waiting for the end, so he could carry his twin to his empty bed. So he could sit by Shivaay's side each night, as he sunk into a restless, uneasy sleep. So he could keep vigil, play a little music, soothe this broken man as he tossed and shuddered in his dreams, crying out just one woman's name.
This story, about some incident with alu puri, a burning painting and a beautiful stranger continued. His twin delved into tonight's story about her, as Mahi looked warily at his brother's drink, now almost finished. Shivaay was rambling, going back and forth, now high pitched and filled with old excitement, now dotted with long pauses. Sometimes, Shivaay stuttered over something that still hurt, some memory that made his voice shake. His eyes glittered, changing colors. Mahi absent mindedly reached for water, sipping a little as Shivaay's hands waved around. Mahi watched his face, as familiar as his own. But no. There were those dark bruised looking circles underneath the unnaturally bright, quicksilver eyes. There were those deep lines of strain around that pale forehead.
Surreptitiously, Mahi looked at the time. Almost 2 AM. Shivaay was getting worse. Om and Gauri had already moved to Bareili and Rudra was too broken by his loss, too angry with Shivaay even speak to, much less help his brother. Mahi was the only one left. And he was starting to realize-- he was in too deep with all this. He didn't know how much longer he could hide it from the world. From the others. He didn't know how much time Shivaay had, before his evening punishment became his whole life. Not just an ugly way of dealing with the pain that howled and clawed, in his eyes. But an addiction to handle these memories, memories of the woman he had driven away, who he was still addicted to. Who he missed with every ragged breath.
Shivaay had come to the end of his story, for once blazing with humor over something she'd said long ago, that still made him smile. The alcohol and the effort of telling Mahi his story was having its usual effect. Shivaay started to slur his words, started to move more jerkily. He spilled whiskey, not noticing it when dribbles fell across his pristine white shirt.
Mahi had listened to his brother, nodding, smiling, putting in the "Accha!" and the "Phir kya hua?" at the right moments. But the end had finally come, and nowadays, it was coming later and later. Shivaay had started to need more and more alcohol to reach oblivion, to get some semblance of peace. As Shivaay mumbled her name, and passed his shaking hands over his face, Mahi asked the question he asked, every night, for the past 100 nights. Longing to hear a different answer than the one that had cost his Shivaay his entire world.. his past and his future.
"Tu usko jaane kaise diya, Shivaay? Tu usko dhoond ke wapas kyu nahi laati? Teri Mrs SSO teri sath kyu nahi hai? Tu uske bina kis ke sath yeh zindagi jee legi?"
And tonight, like every night, the answer came clearly, though the voice that spoke was as hollow and broken as a soul in eternal torment. "Naam khoon khandaan, Mahi, mera bhai. Naam, khoon aur khandan."
Udne Ki Aasha
Kumkum Bhagya
