Be faithful in truth
Betray not the given trust
And..don't leave one behind. (haiku by: Michael Flores Caasi)
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If there was one thing that Annika walking out on him revealed to her shattered husband, it was where the loyalties of his family actually lay. Rudra was an obvious example. Though Rudra knew.. he knew...where she was, nothing Shivaay could say (and he said a lot of things) ... nothing would make Rudra tell him. His Bhaiya had f**ked up. His Bhaiya had allowed the best thing that had ever happened to them, to be insulted. Naam, khoon khandan. Poured over an orphaned girl, already missing her family, hurting, afraid. Bhaiya had broken her heart, over something Bhabi could no more control, than she could control the color of her eyes. And a few hours after leaving the Mansion, knowing that Rudra would panic if he didn't know this-- his Bhabhi had told him where she was going to be, in case Rudra needed her. Loyalty, from her to her devaar, who was now more her child than Shivaay's. And, knowing what Shivaay was going through, the need, the desperate pain-- Rudra wouldn't tell him where she was.
Shivaay knew that Rudra knew-- because Saumya had told him. Funny, naa? How loyalties worked, and what triggered them? Shivaay had never thought all that much about Soumya. Not seen her as all that important, as no more than the pleasant, quiet girl his kid brother had wronged. Shivaay brought her back home, because that was the right thing to do, the socially acceptable thing to do. And he'd done it for Rudra, more than for Soumya, honestly. It had been a careless, unplanned kindness, on his part. An action he hadn't given much importance to, but he had done it out of duty, out of respect for what she now was. His sister in law. His responsibility. Perhaps also, a little because he truly liked her. Nothing to inspire her strong faith in him, to create any fierce support for him, in her heart. But Shivaay was learning-- loyalties were built off actions like these. Kindness. Respect. Gratitude. Trust. And Rudra's wife now proved to be more loyal to the older brother who had brought her into the Mansion, than she was to the Oberoi who she had married. Who now treated her as a troublesome mistake.
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The first lesson, of loyalty had actually come from this quiet girl. Shivaay had understood it, even if he didn't quite believe it, when it happened. He didn't believe his luck in having earned it, he didn't expect her concern, as Soumya gave him--her support. Her loyalties lay with being Shivaay's sister, being the rational one in this house of swirling madness. And so, Soumya had come to his room that night. After Anika had left him here. After Shivaay returned, from driving all over Mumbai, dangerously manic from not finding her any bloody where. Interrupting Shivaay as he tore through his room, shattering everything he could get his hands on, screaming until he could feel his throat burn.
Soumya had waited outside, knocking quietly until he could hear her over the hammering thunder of his heartbeats and the shattering crash of furniture. And when he had swung the door open, almost hoping to see someone he could hit, could attack in his rage, she had told him about the phone call.
Annika Bhabi had called Rudra. Ten minutes ago. She was safe, but not at Sahil's house, or at their chawl. Somewhere else. Rudra would not tell her where. Rudra had headed out already, to wherever she was, with Sahil, and with her things in a bag. She was still in the city, and since Sahil had gone to her, Bhaiya needed to know-- she would not be alone. Bhaiya could look for them, could find them, bring them home. Soumya calmly turned around after delivering her news. She couldn't answer Shivaay's hoarse questions, Soumya didn't know anything more. But Soumya thought he needed to know this much--Bhabi was safe. Soumya hoped he would find her, soon.
And never had Shivaay been more grateful to anyone, than he was, right now, to this chubby, dignified girl who had seen past his sins, and seen the pain of his regret. Looked past his foolish, life altering, soul devastating crime of arrogance and stupidity-- and who had quietly given him a lifeline of hope. Her loyalty, when he had not deserved it, humbled him this night.
Soumya had left Shivaay at his door. Knowing how he would hate it if she stayed, if she saw him in this, his weakest moment, she had left him to his collapse. Walking away, pretending to not hear the wracking sobs that broke out of him, that made him fall to his knees, made him tremble with the grief of his loss. She left him to the tears that now came-- both those of relief, as well as regret. Annika was safe. Rudra knew how to get to her. And Sahil... little Sahil would be there, to hold his Annika together, even though Shivaay had wrenched her soul apart. He would go and get her home. He would get her back. But how?
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Loyalties were absolute things, too. Because Rudra's was absolutely set. It was fiercely on the side of the woman his family had wronged. And why should Rudra reveal to Shivaay where Bhabi was? Where she had gone? What, so Bhaiya could go and make her cry there too? Ask her more questions about a long lost family who she had never known? Poke at a sorrow that Bhabi had already lived through once-- wasn't that enough pain to pour onto an orphan? Did the great Oberoi khandaan demand even more blood from the nameless woman who had saved them all?
So... now what? Bhabi didn't need to be harassed for being an orphan, okay? She was somewhere, with someone who she trusted. Bhabi needed to recover from her husband's faithless, pointless issues. she had to make her plans, whatever SHE wanted them to be. For herself, since her husband no longer believed she mattered to him. She was safe, and Sahil was with her. Bhabi would let her Rudra know what she needed, when she needed it. And Rudra and Prinku and Om would do what they needed to do for their Bhabi. Without Bhaiya, thanks. What did Bhaiya need to know now? He'd already attacked Bhabi for her Naam Khoon and Khandan. Mann nahi bhara? When Bhaiya had left Bhabi like that, sitting at that puja, he had made her lose her family all over again. Didn't he undertand that? She didn't deserve that from them. And he, Bhaiya--well, he didn't deserve her.
And she trusted Rudra, he was STILL her family. So--No. Sorry, but not sorry. His Bhaiya was--- in Rudra's devastating words-- not worth the title of Pati, or Superman right now. Shivaay had left Rudra then. Striken. Hurt. But in rejecting Annika, Shivvay knew it. he had rejected Rudra's Bhabi as well. Hurt his brother, embarrassed him, made him ashamed. Shivaay himself brought that look of cold anger into his cheerful face. So whether Rudra thought Shivaay was still worth the title of Bade Bhaiya-- that was not something Shivaay dared to ask. He didn't want to know what Rudra thought of him right now. But that Rudra was on Anika's side was clear from his utter refusal to TELL Shivaay where he could find his wife.
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Om? Om was a conundrum. Because Om, you see, had seen all this coming. Shivaay had told him right? Had told Om his calculations. His reluctance to give his marriage respect, his wife her title, his feelings a name. Friend. Respect. Care. Protection. Good, solid words to describe a dog, perhaps, but not a wife, a partner or a woman. Because she was after all not worth his blood, his future children. Right? In his arrogance, Shivaay had wondered out loud, in front of Om, if Annika was worth it as his life partner. And even back then, Om must have known something Shivaay didn't -- that without Annika, Shivaay's life itself was worth nothing. But somehow, the fact that Om was clearly expecting Shivaay to fail at realizing this -- that now hurt more than Om's hatred or anger would have. Because Om had known. And Om had not stopped him, from failing her. Or her, from letting him go.
Rudra -- with his sunny nature and optimism and belief in love-- Rudra at least, had been blindsided by what happened at the Puja. An occasion to celebrate Anika and Shivaay, had turned into a horrible display of arrogant stupidity by the mother and the son at its center. Had turned into yelling voices, sly insults, angry questions. When the stuttering truth-- adopted, bleak orphanage, an unknown family, an abandoned child with no memory of anything but darkness--- when Anika's "truth" had been revealed, along with her trembling words had come Shivaay's cold rejection of his wife's hands--and her saath.
And finally, what had come in the end was the devastated, but calm exit by the woman herself. Known to them only as Annika. Who refused to pay the mother-son duo for something she had no blame in. She was proud of who she was. She didn't care who her family had been. What if she was that ugly word, najayaaz? So? She didn't know, or apologize for what her blood was. And if Shivaay didn't think she was enough, just as she was, as the woman he knew, who was right here, in front of him -- okay.
Annika accepted that. Okay.
He had the right to choose, to be ashamed of her. And she had the right to choose, to not stay here, and be his shameful secret. She had the right to choose to leave. And if he was not choosing her for his future, not wanting her for his children-- that was okay, too. She was enough for herself, and she didn't need to beg anyone. Not even him. She would let him know where to send the papers. And dry eyed, confident, serene-- she left him.
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Shivaay had watched Annika leave that morning, too stunned by how she had simply stood up and walked out, to do anything to stop her. He had frozen-- shock, rage, panic a swirling mixture holding him rooted, until it was too late. The calm way she walked out of his home was somehow more frightening than if she had stormed and cried and raged. Like she had always known, somewhere, that she would have to leave him like this. And like she was almost relieved to go, now that the axe had finally fallen, and cut their lives apart. And while she had not said a word to his silent brother, she had stumbled at the door, just once. And Om had been the one to catch her. Not a word between them. Not a word to him, either. But then, when Om turned to look at Shivaay afterwards, Shivaay would have preferred to have a knife thrust through his heart, than the look of disgust in Om's eyes.
Because unlike Rudra or Saumya, Om had not exclaimed, cried, shaken him. Yelled at him to do something. To stop Bhabi, to for God's sake not do this to all of them. To himself. No. Om had looked straight at Shivaay, a distant, considering and vaguely pitying look. And gesturing to his faithful shadow Chulbul, who was wiping tears behind his master's back, Om had walked calmly up the stairs. And Om not spoken about Anika to Shivaay, once.
So when Shivaay went to Om after two days of not finding her, his heart hammering, the words that wanted to tumble out--pleas, regret, pain-- those words dried up before Om's shuttered face. For two days, Shivaay sat, watching his brother at work. Longing to find solace, knowing he didn't deserve it. And not getting any, either, as Om worked around him, like he was a fly on the wall, and not his living, breathing Shivaay, suffering the tortures of the damned. Om would not talk to him, or let him talk. He didn't rage like Rudra. He simply didn't turn away from his canvasses. Om spoke casually to Chulbul, laughing and joking as the servant hovered and fluttered around both the brothers. But with Shivaay, he was silent. He had pledged his loyalty to Annika. Given his friend some silent, irrevocable bond, one between friends. And nothing-- not Shivaay's pain, not Shivaay's silent demands of brotherhood-- nothing would break that loyalty.
Shivaay watched, as Om smiled at his little servant, and talked about his work as if Shivaay wasn't even there. Staring at them, master and servant, his eyes molten with pain and a quiet acceptance. Because Shivaay could not ask the questions, yeah? He couldn't ask for the hug, for the caress, for the support. And he had no right to Om's help, or to his forgiveness. How, when Shivaay couldn't forgive himself for all this? So, no. Shivaay didn't judge his brother. Not even as he bled and broke before him, on his studio floor. It was fair. Loyalty was sometimes cruel, and cold and unfeeling. Sometimes it resisted all others, focused only on the person it called out to. After all, in the world of the Oberois, loyalties had to be fierce, ruthless, terrible things. They had to be a shield of diamond hard strength.
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But it was in Om's studio, too, that another, final lesson in loyalty came to Shivaay Singh Oberoi. Because sometimes, loyalty was warmth, charity and humanity. Compassion, an inexplicable gift. A blessing, alms offered to the beggar. A balm stroked onto a soul that didn't even know it could ask for such relief. This lesson came, and it was this final example of loyalty that set Shivaay free.
For the past few nights, after Rudra's refusal, after the failure of his security team to trace his missing wife, Shivaay had come here, to Om. His own bedroom was empty, a yawning cave waiting to swallow him, without her in it. After searching for her, all day, after begging and threatening, screaming and chasing shadows, at night, it was silence that Shivaay feared the most. So Shivaay spent his evening here, in Om's studio. Om didn't look at him, sit with him, speak a word. But if Shivaay came here, sat here, he wasn't alone as the night stretched before him, without his Annika in his arms. And Om didn't turn him out. That had to be enough. So, two days after Annika had left him, Shivaay was here, slumped in a corner, as forgotten by Om as his empty paint palettes and unfinished sketches. And Shivaay was half asleep, and dreaming of her, when it happened.
Another lesson. Loyalty. As his brother calmly worked oil paint into swirling patterns of chaotic color across the room, Chulbul approached Shivaay, leaning down to offer him his evening tea. And Chulbul whispered to him- "23/B, Bhulawati Chawl, Gurgaon. Aap jaante hai, kissi Chandra Pranik ko? Bhauji ki saheli? Omkara-ji aaj mujhe waha bheja, paise ke sath. Bhauji ko paise chaiye, kissi ticket ke liye. Aapki womaniya iss paata pe hai, Shivaay-ji. Naukri jayegi mereko. Maalik ke sath beimani hai yeh. Par Bhauji bohut roh raha tha, mujhe dekha nahi gaya. Aur woh chote chirota Sahil bhi. Mere bilkul uski jaise baccha bhailog tha, Baireli mei. Shankar Bhagwan sayad yehi chahta, Shivaay ji. Bhauji ko rokiye-- ghar leke aiye. Mei yaha Omkara-ji aur Rudra ji ko dekh lungi. Aap jaiye!"
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And so, it was of all things, a little gay servant boy who's loyalty Shivaay Singh Oberoi had not earned, that gave him his wife back. A gift that he swallowed with brimming eyes, like prasad to a devotee.
As Shivaay raced through the night, to go and fetch his woman home, he thought-- loyalties. His trust and his love had not stood up to his worthless, cruel beliefs. The wrongs he had done, to Annika, to their marriage-- he would pay for that. Blood sweat, tears, whatever it took. He had learnt what hell truly was, just from two days of life without his heart and his pride by his side. But he had learnt something else, too. Something the oddest of teachers had taught him as they each stood, both in support of, and against, him, over these two days of madness and pain.
Loyalties were strange things, given without rhyme or reason, without logic or regard for blood. Did he deserve his brothers' cruelties, or the kindness of strangers? Shivaay didn't know. But Shivaay knew, one thing. after this was over, after she was home-- his own loyalty would not waver --from her, from them -- ever again.
Anupamaa
