Shivi Drabbles: Wistful Tales-Ch 1/ Pg 3 [06/06/2021] - Page 2

Whoa! This sounds interesting.

I'm in for it. 👍🏼

Excited for the 1 part :)

Originally posted by: hedwig_potter

I loved the prologue!!❤️

You should definitely continue.👍🏼

I hope you'll😉, looking forward to it🤗

🤗 Let me try and see what comes out of it.

Originally posted by: nafees5

This looks so interesting

Thank you

Originally posted by: katheriene

The prologue was beautiful and interesting👏

Waiting for 1st chapter

Thank you 🤗Will try to update the 1st chapter by tomorrow ❤️

Originally posted by: Pixiepadhi

The prologue is really good ❤️

Plzz continue . waiting for the update 😍

Thank you

I will try to update by tomorrow.

The prologue is so moving. My favorite line is

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

Something about it so sad.

Please continue soon 🙂

This sounds so different and interesting! Really looking forward to it. Your way with words are something to be envious about! ❤❤

interesting and different from others. excited to read. update soon

Nice concept 😍

Beautiful prologue ❤

Waiting for update...

You once told me you are not a writer. I disagree, this is a beautiful piece of writing ✍️.. Waiting for more 😌👍

Thank you, everyone, for the lovely response! I am presenting the first drabble. This is going to be gloomy and probably a little triggering of an imaginary nostalgia for childhood Shivi. Let me know your thoughts on the same. 🤗

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Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, “The night is starry, and the blue stars shiver in the distance.”

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one, I held her in my arms.

Pablo Neruda

Chapter 1

Chhat | The Terrace |

Fragrances, Emotions and a Story that could have been their own!

When Raavi entered the terrace after this crazy storm-induced downpour on a hot day, she expected the catastrophe that awaited her. It seemed as if the weather also echoed the events that had unfolded on this very upsetting and long day.

The torches of the moonbeams were streaming from filigreed sandstone latticework, a mini jaali work that gave the Haveli its old-world charms. In those torches, the fine dust particles danced like spangles of silver glitter. The owls pecked at the feed which Raavi had hung earlier this morning on the terrace heated with the sun’s gaze. Little did she knew that the owls fed on the worms and not the feed itself.

Nonetheless, she had a colossal sense of exuberance mixed with her perpetual brain fog. Nothing seemed relevant anymore from the moment Rishita had barged into her dream wedding. It was just as if Raavi had hopped, skipped and jumped into another dreamlike trance without rehearsal. Life turned topsy-turvy within a fraction of a second; she evolved as Shiva’s wife and became the tittle-tattle of every Somnath household.

She could still remember the stench of her tears mixed with crushed rose petals of her garland, which later changed into the powdery aroma of the vermillion on her face. In the sequence of events, she could vaguely remember the strength of the arms that had prevented her crippling fall during her pheras. The whiff of sweaty underarms mixed with that of freshly laundered wedding Kurta. Finally, she could never forget the horrid aroma of the sumptuous fried Jalebi served to them post their wedding ceremony. The overwhelming sweetness and warm whiff the moment it was laid out on her table still gave her palpable nausea.

Till date, she was making mends with her fortune but with no respite from the dismal oblivion of Shiva to her heart’s core.

She had dragged her naked feet to her haven from the past few days, the terrace.

Basking in splendid solitude, she soaked herself in the clotted night breeze after a short burst of evening summer rain with her arms stretched like a bird. The little spell made the weather even more woebegone, where every breath was an effort.

Space, time, dimensions and anything else that could give her a continuum of anchorage had ceased to matter for her ever since she came to this God-forsaken Haveli.

She could see all the dried clothes now soaked wet on the cot. The earthen pots which she had carefully kept in the opulent sun this livid afternoon after a massive fight with Rishita were all broken. The wind had blown with such pitiless ferocity.

If only she hadn’t put so much effort! She sighed, regretting every second.

Raavi was so furious that she thought pickling

all the raw mangoes with the coarse paste of gingerly pounded mustard oil, turmeric and chillies, something that remotely reminded her of Shiva, would bring her sanity back. Suddenly after the bout of anger, she had this strange attachment to Shiva! Where is her Chattan Pandya when she needed him the most? He had promised to kill anyone who hurts her. Where was he when she wanted to fry Rishita’s brains? Raavi had tied the mouths of the pots with a muslin cloth to cut the pickled razzmatazz that was muzzling her musings.

After the eventful afternoon, the evening storm had made all her efforts go futile. She would never have love; she pacified herself.

“Why did Shiva get married to her if he hated her that much?”, Raavi wondered after casting a resigned glance at the scattered Mango pickle bottles broken by monkeys, and the contents turned into a pulpy goop on the soggy floor. The pungent aroma was back again!

It was appalling that she could smell them all together; every freaking aroma around her that existed just heightened manifold.

Fragrances had been her weakness; her breathtaking superpower-like sense of aroma had gained her the status of undisputed ‘nose’ of Somnath.

She could smell petrol from a marathon runner’s distance; she would intercept for burning tyres by unruly kids in her street. She would gloss over her Versace perfume that once her cousin brought after visiting London. It’s like she was born with this exacerbated sense of fragrance.

Every scent triggered an extraordinary memory of hers. Right now, the terrace was looking more of a heady cocktail-Fougere earth drenched by the first droplets of summer rain, mixed with the pungent mustard oil scattered due to the pickles, condiments and spices. And, far away from the lake, she could smell the prolific algae that had creamed over the surface post a terrific rain burst during the mid-summer. The surge of conflicted fragrances around her was resembling the mess in her life. In short, a pickled petrichor!

The atmosphere was so uncomfortable, but the sinking feeling in Raavi’s heart was even more shredded. Shiva had been beaten to a pulp by Dhara Bhabhi just a few hours ago. What a dreadful day it has been today!

The chronology of the events could easily make a script for a C-grade pot-boiler.

Shiva-Raavi fight

Raavi-Rishita Fight

Evening Storm

Chudail Drama

Dhara Beating Shiva-Krish

Dev applying ointment

Raavi cursed herself as it was already way past midnight, and she was still roaming around like crazy!

“Shiva must be in a lot of pain.”, she thought to herself.

Raavi didn't see him beyond a point at night after Dev had applied the soothing salve to the brothers. She had waited for him with bated breath to return to the room. There was no spectacle of him, not even his clumsy footsteps that announced his return from the distant corridors.

This had led Raavi to experiment walking on the terrace to give rest to her already boggled mind unexpectedly post-midnight. Suddenly, the wind brought a remotely familiar smell. It was there, his sweat. She rubbernecked around every possible corner of the terrace. She knew it had to be Shiva; it was too conspicuous to be ignored.

Raavi’s alert senses were on an all-time overdrive mode. Her Shiva radar could sense him from a distance. Periodically, he would smell like pickled spices, sometimes like a wet sack of hay, often like sourdough-Shiva was unlike anything that could make Raavi happy. He was enough to remind her about everything wrong that could have happened in her life.

‘Yeh Bhootnath meri Zindagi ki Manhusiyat hai.’, Raavi sighed after mumbling incoherently.

No matter how much deodorant she tried to spray around her, Shiva’s stench was everywhere, so much so that it permeated even in her dreams. Like a set of permanence in her life, she was cursed with her ‘nose’ forever.

How would she ever be able to conquer this monumental life with a man that smells like him?

Her feet drifted to a dark hooded corner behind a pillar overlooking the lake. She had been wallowing in self-pity for days now and perhaps today, she had someone else to pity upon. She should be dancing right now after watching Shiva beaten black & blue by Dhara. After all, he was responsible for all the misery of her life. But Shiva’s absence around her made her restless.

Raavi could barely reason right now. She was a tad bit scared in the darkness. The will-o-wisp of silence, lights flickering at the border of a distant lake and leaves casting shadows from trees made her queasy. She whimpered a bit; the sound of the tinkling bells hemmed at the edge of her Dupatta gave her occasional chills. Curious as a cat, she moved towards the source of the sweaty pull.

Tobacco, smoke, edginess, anger, resignation!

She could fathom the distance of all these smells getting powerful with each step she took while narrowing the distance.

Tobacco, sweat, curls of smoke, dampness, sourdough, pain!

She gasped when she almost reached the source.

“Krish-could it is Krish as he smokes?”, Raavi tried to decipher.

“Krish smells like baby powder!” she scolded herself.

Her leonine prodigal walk was quickly transformed into the surrender of a fawn caught in headlights. Raavi didn't realise that she had sprinted the distance in her reverie, and suddenly a collision bombed her deep state of rumination, and the world became a shower of tingling stars. She was sure she would hit the ground after slipping from a couple of steps leading to the corner, but she knew those arms that had snaked around her body, creating a cushion that stopped her from bumping into the pillar. She knew the callosity of the palms against her dainty humid skin! She knew he wouldn't let her fall! A smile crept on her lips, despite the shock of the slipping. Her tiny palms clutched onto him, latching like a child!

“Aye, Chipkali!”

She knew it was him! These words sounded like music to her ears.

Shiva’s changed baritone voice reached her ears. It was different and not shrill pitched today. Something had changed! Raavi realised while Shiva steadied her back on her feet. Her soles touched the cold granite floor again with a steady grip. His rough palms left her.

Two pair of eyes met in the darkness. Shiva certainly looked aged all of a sudden. Raavi couldn't help but wonder where did it all go wrong? Maybe, he is in immense pain. She mentally pacified herself with a straight-jacketed answer.

He swiftly moved away from her and sat on the edge overlooking the lake. He was in no mood to hurl his choicest abuses and just struck a match, lighting a fresh Bidi and continuing his lonely brooding.

Raavi was expecting a volley of arguments thrown at each other like pots and pans! But, frivolity, boorishness-nothing came out of Shiva’s mouth. He just hung his head lost in his world-a world where Raavi didn't matter.

She was rooted to her spot with this feigned indifference! His aloofness bothered her. His solitude made him incomprehensible for her. This is not the Shiva she is used to cursing. She observed the moonlight bathing him in liquid silver. His unruly hair wafted with each drift of the heavy breeze. A droplet of glistening sweat was still visible from his half shadowy face. He sat there pensive in contemplative silence.

“Tu..”, Raavi crooned, waiting desperately for a violent reaction from Shiva.

“Haan main Aur Kaun?” he replied in an unusually resigned tone.

His eyes were hung, much like the lamps they were but without their usual brilliance and spark. Raavi wasn't giving up either. She stomped her foot, towering his sitting frame and warbled.

“Tu Bandar, Bhootnath to tha hi, ab chamgadhad bhi ban Gaya?”

She mentally patted herself for calling him a bat. She waited patiently for him to scream at her.

Minutes passed by! No reaction!

Raavi flustered at his nonchalant quietness. She would get a response by hook or crook. She snatched his Bidi from his fingers and screeched like a banshee,

“ Yeh Kya hai? Ruk Main Dhara di ko Abhi bata Kar ati hun, phir dekh Teri Aur Abhi kaisi pitayi hoti hai? Tujhe kootengi Aur Woh.”

Raavi feigned walking away with his lighted Bidi when her arms were twisted in a death grip, and a fervently familiar warm breath cooed near her ears.

“Aye, Gadhedi, Akal ki Dushman!”

There he was, just as she knew him. Raavi struggled while he snatched the Bidi back and sat down again without further ado.

Raavi was left stunned. Why isn't he behaving as he usually should? Shiva smoking was the last thing that she could have imagined in her life. It was as if she saw a stranger in him. She didn't know this man! This was not her Shiva.

She got caught in a grotesque vortex of emotions and sat beside him, almost giving up. She played with her Dupatta for a while, and nothing followed but curls of smoke and the fragrance of sweat.

The glittering threads of her garment sparkled transparently, like shining stars embedded in the black velvet of the night in the far distant sky.

It was as if a billion moons had passed between both of them.

Silent breaths, frogs croaking and creaking of insects! The night couldn't be lonelier even with both of them sitting beside each other. And, then, as if wonders of wonders happened, Shiva extended his bidi towards her.

Raavi was left gobsmacked for a second. What's with this sudden Bro-code extension with her? They had been classmates, mortal enemies, relatives, haters and above all, sworn unemotional zones for each other. She was a frontbencher; he barely attended school. She was the prettiest in her school; he was a total goon.

This sudden extension of camaraderie boggled her mind. She scrunched her nose in annoyance and nodded her head vehemently!

“Main Nahi piti. Is gandi badbu ko dur rakh mujhse”, Raavi pushed aside his hand.

A typical reaction would have been Shiva pulling her closer and gritting his teeth in exasperation while picking up verbal diarrhoea of abuses. To her chagrin, none of this happened.

She couldn't even think of a knee-jerk reaction when he pulled his hand back, dragging a puff around with a deep breath and muttered, shaking his head in a disquieting grudge. Shiva was careful enough to smoke away from her face as he didn't want her to break into a silly sham of an allergy.

“Huh, Phoolkumari!”

He sighed and continued as if trying to reveal much-trapped information beneath him.

“Hum Dono Mein Se college Kaun Gaya tha Bandariya? Amber aur Tujhe Dekha Tha Maine! Yeh Sati Savitri banne ka Natak na Bhabhi ke samne chalana. Chipkali!”

“Bhootnath!”

She could only mutter this much, reeling with the surreal amount of drama. He kept tabs on her in college! That was news to her. She was the prettiest girl in Somnath, but she desperately wanted to look fabulous in college too. She occasionally sneaked with her best friend Amber on her scooty to steal some smoking breaks. Not that she enjoyed it! She detested it and could barely smoke without coughing because of her allergy. But, surprisingly, it gave her a sense of being confident like her rebellious cool counterparts in college.

Thinking about Shiva knowing all this gave her strange goosebumps. Might as be hung for a sheep as for a lamb; she couldn't allow Shiva to win. She snatched the Bidi from his hands and tried to pretend to smoke, and coughed miserably while stuttering.

“Tu Na Gawar hi rahega. Bidi pi Raha hai.”

Within a second, her coquettish childish squabble made him groan, which turned out into a chuckle. Shiva snatched it back, patted her back with a solemn mental promise not to give it to her any further.

“Aye Gadhedi, Adhi Raat ko Dukan Nahi khulti na, chowkidar se Jo Mila le Liya, pina hai toh pi Warna Nikal idhar se. Ambar ke Saath toh scooty par udti rehti the...Shiva samne hai toh natak sujh raha hai?”

He gritted his teeth in annoyance and piqued upon her.

“Chipkali”

This time he just whispered his favourite nickname. Silence ensued for a few moments. Radiant scintillating stars high above the forest, skirted by the gloominess of a small oasis in a barren land, were gazing benignly at them. Their hide and seek with the clouds was evident, though.

Raavi’s beaming eyes almost twinkled, sparkling in great glee, and she broke out in a mini laughter. She remembered her rebellious friend Amber who was a girl highly ambitious to a small town like Somnath.

“Aye Chudail ki Tarah kya has Rahi hai?”

Shiva’s voice interrupted her trail of thoughts.

“Kuch Nahi, tujhe pata hai Ambar ko tujh pe crush the? Maine toh keh diya tha use...Tu thehra junglee...”

Raavi chortled trying to infuse teasing and comeuppance in their conversation. She wasn't used to this alien Shiva and desperately wanted him to argue with her.

“Haan pata hai. Ek does baar bola Bhi tha usne. Maine hi use college mein cigarette lakar di thi pehli baar.”

Shiva shot back with a vengeance even before she could complete, goggling his eyes. The impatience was lurking through his affirmations. The Bidi was now over. She just threw that away in the muddy mini pool of rainwater that had collected beneath his feet. The embers doused, and a mini hissing sound died immediately with the extinguished fire.

Shock! Alienation! Perspiration and Denial!

Raavi’s nose betrayed her again. She couldn't believe this could be kept a secret between them. Multiple conflicting emotions ran in loops through her bird-wired brain. Sweat began to pool damply beneath her fanned hair on the back.

She couldn't let Shiva win. He cannot have the last say. This defined boundary smothered her. Hurt began to swim in her voice when she suddenly broke out in retaliation.

“Ji nahi, pehli baar Dev se haha tha main...wo bhi school mein...”, Raavi screeched.

Words that had quickly slipped her tongue; she gagged upon those as if the cat got her tongue, and she stopped breathing. Suddenly, the ease between them just flew far away. Both sat stiffly. The air between them was as rheumatic as it could be.

Raavi didn't know what to say anymore. A few moments passed with only their audible breathing-each trying to fathom the hurricane of emotions swirling through their minds.

Raavi had now buried her face between her knees, averting Shiva’s gaze clutching onto her knees tightly. It warned him for a moment. His hands, as if they had their own accord, did stop abruptly from wanting to comfort her. But, the very next moment, he extended his shivering palms. His cold hands touched her warm flesh and fingers for a brief second before being pulled back, and then everything toppled for her.

Her eyes stung with tears which she didn't want to shed, but they refused to obey her command. A lonely tear trickled down.

She took soporific rhythmic hiccups trying to tame the tap that was opened-her formless agony of years festered and resurfaced in her eyes.

“Main, Tu aur Dev Saath Mein bade huye hain. Toh woh hoga hi na Teri Kahaniyon main?”

Shiva tried to cut through the pall of burden, unable to address Raavi’s love for Dev. He admitted to himself; they shared a history. He wasn't that generous, nor he could find the right words even to touch her unfulfilled love for Dev. Why had this got to be so complicated? Shiva liked the simplicity in his life, and no matter what he did, this Chipkali was like an unsettling feeling of a handful of cold gravel at the pit of his stomach.

Raavi’s statement made Shiva disquiet. He knew not why, but he made a sallow face and nodded his hung head in guilt.

“Age bhaunk! Zara main bhi toh sunu humare Mahaan Dev ne kya herogiri dikhayi?”

Shiva tried to act casually as if he’s been bluffing all along.

This was familiar to Raavi, and maybe it was something strange in Shiva’s voice that prompted her; the conversation just slipped from her mouth like a cascade of stringed pearls. Shiva blurred whatever she said, and he flew back in time.

Many years ago!

It was a sunny morning when he had heard Raavi whining Dev, who was their senior at school to be a partner in crime for buying a pack of cigarettes, and as usual, Dev denied fearing his life. Raavi had coddled him calling him a Phattu and had decided to buy herself during the recess. All her plans went into the drain as she got her periods for the first time, and some duffer boys started laughing at her stained skirt.

Shiva had run towards her to offer to drop her home, but he overheard a crying Raavi asking Amber to call Dev.

He had stopped in his tracks only to make sure she had gone with Dev.

“Aur phir saviour ki Tarah dev me Mujhe Apni jacket di Aur sabse chupte chupate mujhe ghar drop kar diya.”

Raavi narrated without any baggage or pang of sadness. Suddenly Dev wasn't associated with her Prince Charming anymore. She felt almost nothing, no grief, no sorrow, no pining, no shame either. It's as if she saw Dev in a new light. He was a great childhood memory now. She never knew she would breathe better by just talking about him.

Her realisation was cut short by the begrudging voice of Shiva.

“Chupa kar lekar nahi jana tha! Yeh Normal baat se tujhe ya Aur Kisi ladki ko Sharam nahi ani chahiye thi. Main Hota na to...”

Shiva sighed heavily, trying to tame his thoughts. The hint of sadness and shakiness in his voice made the words clam up within his vocal cords.

Raavi was dropped dead in her tracks. Numerous strange sensations started brewing in unknown terrains of her body and mind. Who was this Alien Shiva? Where’s her Bhootnath? Who is this man unbeknownst to her? Why is he talking sense? Why would he say such heartwarming words?

She felt as if she was appearing for her exams in her dreams, and her pen had suddenly stopped working.

Distant from her mind, Shiva couldn't help but wonder why Raavi years ago overlooked that the bully gang of boys couldn't attend school for a week? She didn't even notice that he was suspended for picking up an unprovoked fight at school. She didn't even see how he’d make sure not to fight with her for the next few days.

Both of them stared in the void continuously. They didn't have the heart to look at each other. As if the past had driven a wedge between their banter. Raavi was too busy recuperating and feeling liberated from her Dev guilt while Shiva lost in his wistful nostalgia.

The charge of electrical affluence due to this surreal conversation was so high that it created a radio silence zone. And, then, as if by instinct, Shiva touched her little finger, latching onto it for some sense of hope.

“Yeh Kahani Teri aur meri bhi to ho Sakti thi na Raavi?”

Shiva said without any prelude or context. Raavi turned her head to look at his fragile eyes. They were cold and bleak, but his fingers were now warm. She didn't know what to say at this moment, perhaps too tired from seeking comfort. Someone needed to nurse her before she found the strength to see their story.

Side by side, they thus sat for an eternity, the touch of the finger still there, leavening the intricate fibres of their heart in their thoughts. The cold, dewy sensation against Raavi’s skin due to the heavily moisture-laden breeze couldn’t subdue the burning and twist in her heart.

The mingled fragrance of the mowed lawn grass, the concoction of moss-covered limestone plaster on the Haveli walls added more gloom to the doom. They needed personal improvement before they could attend to each other.

Raavi felt the touch of Shiva’s fingers leaving her. She saw the tired, beaten Shiva get up in haste and walk away, casting an impressionable trailing shadow of his torso that left a few seconds later.

He just stopped midway, turned around and muttered, “Tujhe agey Padhai Karni chahiye.”

He didn't even want for any further conversation, and his muffled footsteps vanished in the sounds of the night.

Perspiration, sweat, tobacco, unfamiliarity, comfort!

Raavi felt her nose was obstructed due to her constant sniffling. She couldn't smell anything anymore.

White, fluffy cotton clouds will be gliding across the sapphire blue summer skies the following day for sure. The morning would be brighter and devoid of the debris of the night. The fading, subdued moon will be hidden. She will smell better.

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The End

Do fragrances trigger emotions for you too? What are your favourite scents and the feelings that trigger you! Do join in and let me know if you would like to read more.

Lots of Lubb

Piu 🤗