Song link: I was inspired by this beautiful song, so I would love it if you would please listen to my inspiration as you read this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ffgSc2c5F0
If its not working, the song is Jhalliya, Coke Studio Season 9
O JHALLIYA--- O FOOLISH ONE!
Zehr wakh ke peeta teh kee peeta
Ishq soch ke keeta teh kee keeta
Dil de ke dil lain de aas rakhi
Ve Jhalliya- pyaar eho jiha keeta teh keeh keeta
What is the point of drinking poison yet fearing it is poison?
What is the point of falling in love yet fearing it is love?
If you give your heart hoping that your love will be returned
Oh foolish one, What is the point then, of giving your heart at all?
-- BULLEH SHAH
CHAPTER ONE
Om closed the door behind him, quietly leaning against the teak carved panels. The room was cold, colder than the other rooms of the Mansion, and he shivered a little at the unusual chill. His older brother stood in front of the open window, uncaring of the drifts of rain that even now battered against the glass. The gusts of cold wind swept through Shivaay's bedroom, soaking his midnight blue silk sherwani, wetting his perfectly gelled hair. Om shivered again, but Shivaay didn't even flinch as a jagged bolt of lightning pierced the grey-black night. Thunder reverberated through the silent room, like the warning of God Himself.
The mansion's lights flickered, and in between the moments of darkness and light, Shivaay stood, perfectly still. One white fist was clenched on the windowsill, his entire being straining forward, as he stared at the darkness outside. He looked carved out of granite, watching the rainstorm with a focus that looked unnatural to his watchful younger brother. The open window was why the room was cold-- Omkara knew this. But, poet that he was, Omkara thought-- it was also because of the frozen heart within this still figure inside this room, tonight. Omkara had always known that spaces took on the personalities of its inhabitants. The way Rudra's room felt warm and loving, the way his own gave off solitude and mystery, that was how this room now felt like Shivaay himself -- gorgeous and pristine, but cold and empty. Om imagined that the room was waiting, like its master was. Lonely, cold, waiting for a chance to return to life, for the return to love. He knew...Om knew, they all knew.. that Shivaay loved. That he longed for love, that he was ablaze on the pyre of love. Then what was he waiting for, why was he letting this happen, this insane, foolish Ishqbaaz?
The lights in the room went back to normal, as the massive generators kicked in-- it had started up quite late, actually. Normally, Omkara would have gone and checked on the generator himself. Right now, however, he didn't care worth a damn about anything but his brother and the sheer insanity of tonight. The central AC of the mansion was set at a comfortable temperature, to account for the hundreds of guests Shivaay was expecting to come to this farce of a wedding. And most of those people had come, despite the magnificent storm raging, Omkara thought, his lip curling in disgust. Why not? Who would miss this? It was an unprecedented event, after all...the gossip rags were in seventh heaven, reporting every detail with breathless focus, the comments sections raging with people's scandalized reactions and shocked delight.
A wedding to end all weddings! Where Shivaay Singh Oberoi, the scion of the notorious Oberoi clan was making a public spectacle of his private life. For the first 30 years of his life, SSO had avoided even the appearance of scandal, and now he was spectacularly flaming out before society itself. All reserve, all sense, all logic forgotten. Here he was tonight, marrying the love of his life to someone else, handing her over with the pomp and ceremony of royalty- with the story splashed all over India's front pages.
Of course these people had all come to his ex wife's wedding to his own friend, being hosted and arranged by the Oberoi himself, no matter the storm. She lived in his house! And was marrying his business colleague! Were these two men sharing a bride? Was this some rich man's perverse game? Hinted the worst of the gossip columns. What was so special about this low born gold digger that even Vickram Thappad was willing to pick her up? There had to be something, some advantage, some profit, right? Questioned the business men drinking their scotch downstairs. How did she get that ridiculously hot Vikram, while still making the gorgeous brute Shivaay Singh Oberoi dance at her wedding? Demanded the socialites as they angrily applied more lipgloss inside the hall. What magic was she doing, that even elder Oberoi family members were supporting this second marriage? Asked the aunties who'd lost not one, but TWO fantastically rich sons in laws to this one girl. What delicious scandal!
Om recalled the whispers and smirks of the guests, the way they were taking pictures of unseemly and over-elaborate decorations downstairs. In decorating for Anika's wedding, gone was Shivaay's restraint, his reserved and immaculate style. Downstairs, he had used 1000 flowers where 100 would do, lavished more money on gilt, gauze and lighting than good taste demanded. The explosion of money, over the top decor and color looked anything but tasteful. Om's artistic eyes were insulted. But within his sympathetic, worried heart, Om understood what he was looking at--- Shivaay's despair, his complete devastation, made flesh.
His brother's bleeding heart was in the one million blood red roses that covered every surface. His pride given a form through the glitter of gold cloth and 24 karat decor of the mandap. His very pain burnt within the thousand perfumed diyas that would light Anika's way to her wedding pyre, minutes from now. Omkara understood-- of course he did. But no one knew how to reach Shivaay anymore. To stop him. To make him halt all this, reverse all this before it was too late. No one understood what to do-- least of all Shivaay's own blood, his brothers, or their wives. What were they doing? These two? But whether you could do anything about it or not, you still tried. You did not stand by and watch a fire consume those you loved. So Om had come here, one last time. One final attempt, to stop the destruction of not just Shivaay and Anika-- but the destruction of their very home. And all Shivaay was doing was-- staring at the rain. What was he waiting for? What did he know, that Om did not?
Wada ishq ishq tu karna ein
Kahbhi ishq ka gunjal khol sayi
Tennu matti vich na rol dewe
Do pyaar de bol- bol sayi
You like to babble on about love
But try and unravel the mystery of love someday
It leaves you utterly vanquished, conquered, to the ground
So speak a few words when you see true love, someday
-- BULLEH SHAH
Omkara, nothing if not stubborn, spoke to the statue in front of him. He was a poet, and so Omkara truly thought he knew love, knew all about relationships and soulmates. He didn't, not really-- not yet -- but at least he spoke eloquently, beautifully and from the heart tonight. Om's love for his brother gave his words weight, worry for his Bhabhi colored his voice with urgency. Bringing up the memories of his brother and his bride, talking about Anika's goodness, her beauty, grace, her perfect match to his brother. He tried logic, he tried emotion, he tried sly blackmail and honest begging. And his brother, through it all, stood silently. Facing the window, not saying a word. Now and then he politely nodded, as if he was listening to Omkara's stumbling, passionate words, but Shivaay did not say anything as he stared, with all his focus, at the dark gardens before him.
Outside, the rainstorm swirled higher and higher. The wind was picking up speed and the hammering rain was falling with an urgency Omkara could not remember from any previous storm. It felt as if nature itself was recreating the roaring storm within Shivaay tonight. The lightning stuck harder, the wind howled louder, the trees whipped faster. Now, before them, the storm peaked, shards of light striking groaning soil, blinding these two brothers as they looked into the dark heart of the storm. The very night air and the thunder of the heavens screamed, a world gone wild. Rain fell, like the earth itself was weeping the sacrilege of this unholy marriage, the end of this love story. Om felt bile and terror rise, as frustration danced inside his heartbeat, counting down to the moment when they would lose... LOSE... Anika! And if they did, they would lose Shivaay too-- forever. Below him, over the chatter of the guests and the roaring of the wind, Omkara could now hear the shehnais strike up, a wailing lament of music. It was time. He turned away from Shivaay, looking at his watch in horror -- just minutes to the wedding-- and as he looked, so Om missed the moment.
Suddenly, Shivaay jolted into action. He screamed her name, a roar of pure torment and dawning hope, warning and triumph. Before Om could say anything, do anything, Shivaay was gone. Wrenching open the window, pulling down the velvet curtains, before Om's could so much as move, his brother put one fine boned hand onto the window sill for balance, and -- vaulted-- outside. Shivaay was gone between one heartbeat and the next. Dropping down, before Om's terrified eyes. Shivaay's bedroom was on the 3rd floor, for god's sake, with a serious drop to the garden below-- Rushing to the window, Om couldn't believe what just happened. His breath was still caught in a scream inside his throat, when he peered over the ledge. At first he could barely make out the figure, sprawled against the muddy ground, terrifyingly still. Om was sure he was seeing his brother's lifeless body when Shivaay sat up, holding his arm awkwardly. Slowly, painfully he stood up, and screaming her name again, he took off into the night in a stumbling run.
Just before the gathering darkness enveloped Shivaay into its arms, in the distance, Om saw what his brother had been waiting for, watching for, all this while. The running figure, glinting black and gold, of his brother's ex, and future, bride. Om shuddered, sagging bonelessly against the open glass, uncaring of the rain slicing in and wetting his face. Not even bothering to wipe away the tears that now mingled with the raindrops. Relief, and joy warred against the adrenaline still pumping through Omkara, as he sank to the ground, thanking every God who's name he knew. Gods he didn't even believe in.
After long minutes, Omkara got up, but the trembling of his hands would not allow him to manage much, after the shocks he had received tonight. The rain was building up, wetting the floor he had collapsed on. So, Om managed to reach for the windows, and somehow close the glass. Om smiled crookedly as he stood leaning against the panels, still trembling slightly. "O Jhalliya.." Omkara murmured to himself as a snatch of an ancient sufi poem came to his bemused mind "...O jhalliya, ishq kaumana aukkha.." As he locked the window, he didn't bother to look outside. He wouldn't have seen anything, even if he had. The darkness outside had absorbed its foolish ones. Om stood, recalling the lines that had come to him just now. In a little while he would go downstairs and tell the others what had happened. He would wait, for his brother, for his bride. The rest would be upto love, and to the Ishqbaaz, himself. For now, into the darkness and the driving rain, Om spoke softly:
Sukh ghat pe dard hazaar milen
Kade ishq noon takri tol de sayi
Teri hassdi akhh vij buj ja ve
Kahi sanoon andron phon sayi
-- BULLEH SHAH
Given the new spoilers of Anika possibly running away in the rain from her wedding venue, and Shivaay going after her. PART TWO is now up on Page 8. Comment and like, ladies, if you want more...😆
Anupamaa
