AdNi OS: Epiphany ...

She had gone to meet her father.

He sat down on the stone bench to wait for her, staring at the courtyard, and the walls of the house that once meant the world to him. Now it was just bricks and stones... all his precious memories were held inside the walls of his heart, as they had been the past 16 years. This detachment was a curious thing to him, now that he thought about it. What had he set out to accomplish... when he had come back, he had wanted revenge, and answers. He believed it was one kind of justice, that he had destroyed whatever name and fame they had, their good standing in the society, uprooted everything they had established atop his parents graves. But at what cost... he had read somewhere that if it was the right thing to do you'd feel better. He hadn't. He felt rotten, and sick, and he wanted out. He raked a hand through his hair as some of the confusion and frustration returned with remembrance. Why was fate so cruel that it wanted to rob him of his hate, the sacrament of revenge, that which led him all these years... again he had no answer to that, and so he had run. And she had followed him.

Now she brought him back, and he only felt this strange detachment to these bricks and stone walls, the grand chandeliers and the stained glass windows of his childhood. He didn't know what to make of his feelings anymore. He didn't have any of the answers he had wanted then and now. All he had was her... Chandni. Somehow he had come to the realization that he had channeled everything he had felt into an image, an image he had formed in his own mind. That of a girl who lied and cheated and was the embodiment of all manner of untruth and all forms of deception. But that wasn't her. That wasn't Chandni. He could see that now, now that she was within arms reach and he knew her. And because all that time, even when he made it his life's work to hate her and exact his revenge, he yearned for her. His best friend, his soul mate, the only one person besides his family who understood him, the one person who could read him like an open book even when his brow furrowed and expression darkened, who could speak to him without words, whom he had loved and cherished with all the innocence and earnestness of the young. She who matched him strength for strength, wit and temper. The one person who could still make him laugh and smile and be as a child would be, even at this age. He remembered especially the ridiculous couplets she wrote on him- ASR ASR usko maro joote chaar - and then the caricature of a demon which he obviously was to her, and he snickered at her sauciness. Reluctantly admired her courage that she tried to give it back to him, and marveled at her naivete, wandering into his room at that time of the night, silly and trusting as a child, and just as feisty as he remembered her to be. Nani was right. She was the same girl he had loved back then, only older. And still his. Nothing had changed that.

Did she do this? Had he gotten used to having her around...Was it her presence that made it easier to accept her, and the love she gave, that love which she had nurtured the way he had nursed the hurt and betrayal, and it was there waiting for him when he came back? He didn't really know. But accepting this, acknowledging his longing and his acceptance of her had somehow set him free from that prison. His heart ached for all the losses he suffered, every single day it did, but he found be could breathe now. He didn't have to hate her along with the rest of it. Somehow he knew she was innocent. He knew that. It didn't change the fact that he didn't have the answers, and he didn't know if he would ever get them. But he could think of her and look at her and not hate her. That was a relief.

She was worried for her father. He didn't consider them his family, never would and didn't even want to go there, but he couldn't muster up any feeling for Yash Narayan either. What revenge could you exact from such an enemy? What could you say or think about a man who was dying, and dying slowly and not remembering his own name? Nothing. But she worried, and it hurt her. He could no longer deny that it hurt when she hurt. She was part of him, like an extension of his self. Of course he cared, he thought as he remembered her standing out there in the rain that night, stubborn idiot. Of course he cared. And she was happy with it... It was no use questioning his feelings for her. Tired, he pulled out his phone and started reading emails. He didn't know if he wanted to think about any of it any more. He would just wait for her and then take her home.

Chandni backed out of the room, too shocked to even think. Her brain kept running loops, snatches of what her father just said... "Mahant aur mahantani bhale log the" "tumhari maa ne aur hum ne mil kar phasaya" "maar daala" Maar daala...

Maar daala!! Murderers... her parents whom she revered as Gods... they were murderers...liars and thieves and ... and murderers... they killed Dev's parents... like a badly made horror movie her childhood played out in front of her eyes, poisoned by her father's revelation. Her father's love... the lessons of honesty and the values of tradition that he imbibed in her... she remembered being asked about Dev, being asked about his mom, Indrani egging her on and prodding her for information, such horrible, unpardonable betrayal laced with fake affection. Then they sent her away. Indrani was perhaps never capable of anything else, but what her father did...He participated in something so heinous, he never so much as raised his voice, he let others murder innocents for his own personal gain...he let them make Dev an orphan!! Dev who must have been burning alone in that hell all these years... Chandni felt her heart constrict and then felt as if it suffered a hundred different paper cuts as she staggered out into the hall, one for each act of love and kindness she had perceived from her father...and then she saw him in the courtyard, and suffered the pain of having her heart sliced to thin ribbons, aching and bleeding for him. "Dev..." she called out in a broken whisper as the sight of him broke the dams of guilt and pain. Her feet faltered once on the first step, setting the little bells on her anklets tinkling.

He thought he heard her anklets chime, one harsh little tinkle, then it stopped. Despite himself his lips curved up in a half smile. She must have faltered a little then caught herself. Kuch bhi thik se kar nahi sakti, he murmured to himself, humesha chot lagati rehti hai. Clumsy oaf she could be, but she was cute. He had to admit that. Whatever drove him to give her that name, she was indeed katto gilehri. A little of the smile still hovering on his lips he turned to check, wondering why they didn't tinkle rhythmically on her way down the steps, then stopped short. She was sitting there at the landing, crumpled and holding onto the banisters, and she looked as though she was in pain... "Chandni?" that one word was both worry and censure as he bolted from the bench and up the steps to reach her. He was right and she did hurt herself when she lost her footing a minute ago. Couldn't she walk properly? Now she was hurt and crying in pain!

"Kya hua? Can't you walk?" He gave her a hand to help her up. She looked up at him with tear drenched eyes and a stricken expression. Hands trembling, she reached out and took the offered hand. Instead of taking the support and raising herself, she clutched at his hand, equal parts desperation, panic, guilt and loss. "Dev," she said on a half sob. Confused, he knelt by her. "What's wrong? Is your dad ok?" Had something happened to him? Why was she behaving as if someone had...died?

Unable to speak, she shook her head no.

It didn't seem like he could leave her to go check. She wouldn't have let go of his hand either, he knew that. He looked up quickly, in the direction of Yash's room. He saw Niru going in, heard the murmur of the man's soft voice as he spoke to the attending nurse. Once or twice Yash's voice was heard, shouts of anguish, then all was quiet except for her sobs. He gathered that they had managed to quiet him down. The man had Alzheimer's. It could have been anything, he might have taken her for a stranger and reacted badly. Or he could have remembered something upsetting that induced a panic attack. Was that what put her in this state? He looked back at her. Her quiet weeping was all the more disturbing now that he looked into her eyes. It was clear she was hurting, but somehow it felt that he himself was the object and subject, not Yash. The pain he saw in her eyes was all for him. Did Yash tell her something? Did she get the answers he sought? Even as he processed that he wished it wouldn't hurt him so.

"Dev," she said softly, still weeping as she relinquished her hold on his hand, only to gently cup his face in both of hers, wishing she could take away all of it with these gentle caresses. Every wound that her parents lanced at his soul, every hurt, scrape and bruise, all his suffering. But she couldn't. He lost his parents... because of her. Unknowingly she had destroyed his world, and spent her life worshipping those who plunged him into that world of despair. She was the sword they used even though someone else had wielded it. She remembered all his black moods since the day he came back, the rage, veiled threats, how he scoffed at her when she claimed her parents were innocents who had never harmed another living soul...and the hurt in his eyes when she hurled those words at him that he didn't deserve a family. God in heaven...how could he forgive her? How could he stand to be near her...she had lost all rights to him 16 years ago, what right did she have now to hold him... she dropped her hands like they were scalded, and gave in to the urge to really cry her heart out. She bled for him as another medley of scenes played out behind her closed eye lids. She knew the pain of losing one's parents, for she had lost them both several times over throughout her life. But to lose them in such a manner as he did...and at the hands of one he considered his own...

He watched her fold into herself, her slender frame wracked by those quiet sobs. Yes. She probably did have all his answers. But it tore him in half, watching her suffer this way. "Chandni,"he said softly. He raised her chin up with one finger so he could look at her properly. "Stop crying. Please." She swiped at the tears. More followed. "Dev," she tried again. All she'd been able to do was take his name since she found out, but he deserved to know the truth if he didn't already. Afraid he'd shake it off but helpless to do anything else, she raised one trembling hand to touch his face again, part longing and part apology. His eyes closed involuntarily, accepting her touch as her fingertips grazed his cheek gently, gently in a gossamer caress. She wanted to heal him, however impossible that was; he understood that much.

"Dev," she gulped in more air, valiantly fighting the sobs choking her, "baba ne kaha ki-" she swallowed the next sob that threatened to stop her, "unhone kaha ki-" she was forced to stop as he opened his eyes and looked into hers. "I know," he said quietly, taking her hand down. "bas tum nahi janti thi." She shook her head no, willing the tears to stop. Dev didn't want to see her crying.

"Aur maa," she said brokenly. That woman had used her to get what she wanted...

He gave a dry shrug. "Of course you trusted her. Tumhari maa hai."

"Nahi, Dev," she replied dejectedly. "wo kabhi meri maa nahi ban paayi," she looked out into the distance, "par muje iss bat ka dukh nahi hai. Shayad me isi ke layak thi," there was no emotion in her voice when she said this; for herself she had no tears.

"What do you mean?"

"unke liye me humesha sauteli hi thi Dev," she turned back to him. "par unhone mera istemal kiya tumhe dard de ne...tumhari duniya, tumhari khushiyan ukhadne, sirf apne matlab ke liye," with effort she quelled the heaving sobs and rose, holding on to the banister for support as she didn't feel she deserved the hand he offered any more. "me nahi janti thi ki mera Dev mujse itni nafrat kyu kar baitha," there was regret in her eyes, and longing, but only her eyes spoke those tales. "ab janti hu Dev," she was careful to keep her voice devoid of any emotion now. "ab janti hu ki tum mera chehra bhi kyu nahi dekhna chahte the." She dared not to touch him once again, even for the last time; she wasn't sure she'd be able to let him go then. Instead she withdrew, took a step backwards, releasing him from this obligation she felt she had forced upon him. "ab nahi aungi tumse tumhari chain, tumhare apno ko cheenne." Resolutely she dried the tears which she only just noticed were still running down her cheeks. "maafi bhi nahi maangungi."

"Kyu?" He asked like a bewildered child. She was leaving him now?

"jo tum muje de nahi sakte Dev, " she gave in finally and reached out to brush the hair away from his forehead gently, "wo mang kar tumhe aur taklif nahi de sakti." She smiled sadly as she withdrew her hand. "good bye, Dev," she whispered gently as she turned to go.

She stopped at the first step as she found he had tugged at her hand, forcing her to turn back to him.

"Phir se dhoka dogi tum?"

That stole her breath. "Dev!"

"tumne kaise soch liya ki me tumhe jane dunga. Tumhe jana hi tha, tho ayi kyu tum vapis mere paas..." No matter how many times he had asked her to leave, her quiet declaration was a shock for him. She couldn't leave, not now. Not when he had only just found her again. Odd how we realized the value of things when someone else threatened to take them away.

"tumhi ne kaha the Dev," she reminded him, however painful it was. "ki maine tumhari zindagi barbad kar di," she searched his eyes, wondering why he would stop her now, why his eyes were moist. "aise shaks ke sath kaise jiyoge jo har pal tumhe yad dilaye ki tumne uski wajah se kya kya khoya hai." He didn't answer, and she nodded to herself. She hadn't expected anything else.

But he didn't answer because he didn't want her to know...he didn't need reminders, because he lived in that hell day in and out.

"Me chahti thi ki mein tumhare barso pehle ke sab ghav bhar du," she accepted defeat even as she brushed away the lone tear that spilled over from his eyes, "par jo dard maine tumhe diye hai...mere rehte kabhi nahi mitenge."

"Tumhare bina bhi tho nai jee sakta," he replied brokenly. He needed her. Couldn't she see that?

"Dev," she began, only to be cut off by him.

"anjaane me hua tumse, bachi thi tum bhi," he conceded.

"Par wo tho nahi the." she wondered if she could forgive any of them... herself, or her parents.

"Tho galati unki thi, tumhari nahi Chandni," he told her, and himself. Saying it out loud cemented what he already knew in his gut to be true. "Meri Chandni aisa kabhi nahi kar sakti". Why had he doubted her ever? "Aur dard maine bhi diye tumhe itne..."

"tumne jaise kaha tha Dev, wo dard bhi tumhara taufa hai. Bachpan se leke aaj tak tumne jo bhi diya hai sab sambal kar rakha hai maine," she smiled, blinking away the tears.

He smiled too, just as she did, smiled through his tears. It was staggering to realize that she forgave him for every slight and hurt and insult he had given her, just like that. "Memory box mein?" He questioned lightly.

"Nahi," she took the hand that held hers, placed it over her heart.

He drew her to his, held her quietly.

"Dev, tumhare ma, baba, miku..." she spoke softly, holding him for comfort, and offering him the same. She knew no apology would bring them back, but still...

"Miku ko me dhoond lunga," he told her resolutely. "Aur jinhe saza dilana hai me dilwaunga."

She looked up at him once again. "Aur Dev mein-"

"Tum kahi nahi jaogi."

She shook her head no, resting her head on his chest, holding him closer. "jaisa tum chaho."

"aur ek bat."

"bolo."

"badon ko aap kehte hai." He said for old times sake.

"Aur apno ko tum kehte hai," she spoke into his shirt front, smiling, grateful the fates gave him back to her, gave her a chance to heal him, and somehow return some of the life he had lost.

He thanked the fates for bringing her back to him. Jise bhoolne ki baddua harkhuda se mangi, unhi khudao ne dobara usse milne ki dua de di...

Of all the precious things he had lost from within these walls, fate had finally returned one to him. It all began with her... the string of losses. And he had her in his arms now. Perhaps there was hope for him...perhaps he could find the rest, his baby brother, answers, and justice...and peace.