RiKara OS - Unforgiven

This is sadistic me, trying to get some burden off my heart. Don't get me wrong, I've always been very fond of Omkara, but at this once, I want him to suffer a bit...okay...let's make that a lot, shall we. So in my universe, he is regretting every word he had ever uttered to Gauri in isolation after she had left.

This is a stand along piece, some months after she had left and he had been unsuccessful in locating her. However, I believe this will not be the case of cannon. I'm hoping to do a follow up piece with Gauri, and then perhaps another concluding part...that completely depends on the response on this one, and my own schedule in the next few days.

Without further ado, please enjoy the story below.

Dedicated to MrsOmkaraOberoi cause it was one of her witty tweets that had given me the idea for this one.

Zameen pe na sahi toh aasmaan mein aa mil

Tere bina guzara aye dil hai mushkil

**

"Asmaan aur zameen ki kabhi koi mail nahi hota...

"Toh main kaun sa asmaan hoon?

"Kher chodiye, aap nahi samjhenge,

"Toh samjhao na.

"Agar samjha pate toh kab ke samjha chuke hote, apne dil ko.

"Kya?

She smiled wistfully, with that sheen of tears in her eyes.

"Kya, Gauri? He tried again, grabbing hold of her wrist when she stood up to leave. She watched him wordlessly, eyes downcast and thick lashes fanning. He simply drank her features, committing them to his memory, for an unknown reason.

She didn't reply, instead bent down slightly and touched his cheek with her hand, a touch that was too faint to be felt, but he leaned into it greedily.

"Ke iss sapne ka ab humain koi haq nahi raha, her words were muttered against his ear, a mere whisper in the winds and Omkara's eyes snapped open.

Dark. Cold. Empty. He shivered at his reality after waking up from yet another vibrantly colorful dream where his wife was still by his side. His wife. The words sounded like a part of a long forgotten prayer, one that he kept repeating to himself, to keep going, to keep alive, to keep pain at bay. His wife.

Omkara Singh Oberoi slowly got up to his feet, kicking aside the glass fallen at his feet, skimming a quick eye across his studio that lay in ruins. Yet again, he had destroyed some things. He could not remember, often the days went in haze and nights drowning himself in his sorrows. He didn't remember much of what he did. Not that it mattered, it did not. Not when she was nowhere to be found.

It had never occurred to him that she meant so much, until she had left his life forever taking his very soul with her. Omkara felt empty, a breathing shell. Something that he never thought was possible. Had he seen all the pain there is in the world, watching his mother suffer a loveless marriage for so many years. Honestly he had thought so. But, if the unyielding ache in his chest was anything to go by; he thought as he clutched a hand over that very same spot, where his heart wrenched in agony; he knew nothing of dard as she would have felt it.

The rage that burned inside him, could have destroyed the world Omkara was certain of it; had that rage was directed at anyone other than himself. But he knew, as surely as the guilt suffocating him at these wee hours in the morning, no one was responsible of his doom as he was.

Uss aurat ko kya kehete hai, jo kissi ki ghar ujhalti ho? He had asked her. "Uss aadmi ko kya kahete hai, jo apni pyaar ko zaleel kare? His subconscious questioned back, a wicked irony wrapped in its tone.

And his rage was destroying him. Little by little, day by day. His family had tried to talk him out of it. Take him back home. Shivay had done every possible thing under the earth. But finally, even he had stepped back after knowing the full story, after learning what his beloved brother had done with a girl who was already too good for him, Shivay had given up the idea of hunting Gauri to the ends of earth and bringing her back to his brother. Because he agreed, as unwillingly as it was, that the girl who had called him Bade Bhaiyya once, deserved to live with her dignity intact, with whoever she chooses to, not with whoever she is forced to, by fate or by the society.

"Meri zindagi mein tumhari koi jaga nahi hai, Omkara had told her. But even at that moment those words had been empty, he had not really felt the hatred reflected in those words. He had not felt the satisfaction he should have, when they inflicted freshly bleeding wounds on her already battered psyche. Strange enough, when she looked at him, with those soulful eyes dimmed in a silent agony, he had felt a pang of hurt. Something that he refused to acknowledge until it was very late.

"Ab uss ki zindagi mein mera koi jaga nahi raha, he muttered to himself, like every other day. Another mantra, that kept him from pursuing her. He did not know how to make her happy. Heck, he did not know how to be happy himself, how could he please another? Wasn't that the problem to begin with. He was so much of a coward afraid of the pain of betrayal that he had never paused to trust anyone long enough to make a bond. Wasn't it the reason he continued to hang on the old misunderstanding when she had proved again and again that she was far better and beyond his judgment? No, she was better off wherever she was, far away from him, far away from all the memories of all that he had done to her.

In the meantime, he would make do with dreaming of her, thinking of her and hating himself. It was his punishment for hurting the only woman who had truly loved him. Him, not his name, prestige or money. And he was so blind that he did not realize it. He did not realize what his world was doing to her. He did not hear the taunts they hurled her way, he was blind to the cracks in her armor, deaf to her sighs of defeat. He had been oblivious to her struggle until the moment she had given up her arms. She had tried desperately to hold on to his world, until the moment he himself had thrown her away.

Walking up to the only standing easel at the end of the studio, Omkara pulled out his pallet and started to mix colors. His strokes were as steady as ever on the empty canvas, his colors as vibrant as the dream he just had of her. From his memory he painted the Gauri in his dream, that wistful smile in her lips, that sheen of tears in her eyes, her dark hair cascading her pale face. He painted for a while in silence and stood back to admire what he had done with a sigh.

"Sahi thi thum, he told her, taking off his heavy rimmed glasses and wiping them clean on his paint splashed shirt. "Asmaan aur zameen ki koi mail nahi hoti. Par akhir mein aansu bhi toh asmaan ki hoti hai na?

That pain seized his heart his heart once more and he collapsed down on ground, eyes still on her portrait and a hand gripped over his heart.

"Kya tumhe abhi bhi mehesoos hota hai? Kya tumhe abhi bhi yaad hai? He was ashamed of the tone of his voice, the hopes that colored his question. As if his heart wanted her to forgive him, once she realizes the agony he was going through. But that won't be fair, right? Not when he had not even batted an eyelid when she was being tortured by a relationship he refused to give a name to, trying to find her identity in a labyrinth of relations and confusions. Why should she be there, when he had never been there for her, except that one time when he had so witlessly claimed her as his in front of an entire crowd.

"Kya tum abhi bhi pyaar karti ho? Kya tum abhi bhi meri ho, Gauri?

**

Link - #2 Unforgotten

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Thanks for reading!

Love,