PART TWELVE
As the golden hues of dusk painted the sky, casting a somewhat stifled glow through the windows of the legal aid clinic, Abhira and Armaan found themselves still engrossed in their tasks. The evening descended with a quiet solemnity, enveloping the space in a tranquil ambiance that belied the fervent activity within. An hour had slipped away unnoticed, the passage of time obscured by the relentless pace of their tasks and the quiet intensity of their shared focus.
Amidst the flurry of legal documents and discussions, there had only been a brief break, when Armaan had prepared some tea for Abhira and Mr Qureshi, and the fragrant aroma had lingered in the air, mingling with the musty smell of yellowed papers.
As the last rays of sunlight faded from the horizon, casting long shadows across the office, the light from Mr Qureshi's office went off, signaling his imminent departure. Armaan glanced towards Abhira and he gestured towards her belongings. It was time to wrap up for the day.
Abhira shook her head subtly in response to Armaan's silent cue. Surprisingly, she had felt somewhat reassured by his words earlier, and decided not to let her past hurt weigh down on her focus towards the work at hand.
"We still have a lot of work before us," she said, her voice carrying a quiet determination. "Will you drop me at the hostel afterwards?"
"Of course," Armaan said, his lips curving slightly.
"You're still here, Miss?" Mr Qureshi said as he approached them, "Working late, I see? That's very good. You will learn a lot from AP. Just don't become a workaholic like him."
"Seriously, AP," Mr Qureshi chided fondly, "It's like the youngsters say, you need to get a life!"
"Just preparing for tomorrow's trial, Qureshi sa'ab," Armaan replied, "We won't stay too late, don't worry."
"You know what I'd say, right? Not a life... you need to get a wife! Like the elders say," Mr Qureshi chuckled. Over the many months they had worked together, they had developed an easy camaraderie that transcended the professional boundaries that defined their relationship, especially now that they were beyond 'office hours' and the rest of the employees had left for the day.
Armaan shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, trying not to meet Abhira's eyes, before he said quietly, his volume barely above a whisper, "I already have one."
"Ah yes, true," Mr Qureshi said, remembering. "Well in that case," he added, "You need to bring her back home, janaab. Forget this divorce business. You clearly love - "
"Sir," Armaan quickly interjected, not wanting Abhira to feel embarrassed or awkward, "I am happy with the work I am doing, and I stay late for that reason. Don't worry about me. Go now, or auntie will scold me for holding you up!"
"Point taken. But we will talk about this again though," Mr Qureshi said before he bade them goodbye.
"Sorry," Armaan mumbled to Abhira, still not meeting her eyes, "He cares a lot for me, he and his wife both... so sometimes, he gets carried away."
As Mr Qureshi's footsteps faded away, the office settled into a quiet stillness, broken only by the rustle of papers as Armaan returned to his work. Abhira's mind, however, was anything but calm. She had clearly caught the word "love"... was that just an old man rambling out of concern, or did Armaan...?
Glancing at Armaan, who was now immersed in his papers, Abhira couldn't help but wish she possessed his ability to read him as effortlessly as he seemed to read her sometimes. There had been a time when their connection was so intuitive, when they could understand each other with just a glance or a touch. But now, the wall of distrust that had formed between them cast a shadow over their interactions, so that all his words to her were now shrouded in doubt.
As she watched him work, she yearned for the closeness they once shared, for the ease with which they could communicate their thoughts and feelings. But now, every word, every gesture felt like a puzzle to be deciphered.
The old Abhira would have simply blurted out whatever it was that she had to say, without a second thought.
But curiosity tugged at her, and she felt that old Abhira resurface somewhat, as she asked the question that had been weighing upon her for so long, "You live alone?"
Armaan looked up, surprised, and said, "Yes, I have an apartment nearby."
His surprise softened into a faint smile as he observed Abhira. He hadn't expected her to initiate a casual conversation. It was a welcome change from the guarded interactions they had shared lately. He did not seem to detect in her eyes the same distance that had once lingered between them. Instead, he almost felt he could sense a faint glimmer of warmth. He set aside his pen.
"You are in Bangalore, right?" he asked, before hastening to add, "I wasn't stalking you. I saw it in your resumé that Qureshi sa'ab sent to me this morning."
"Yes, I'm studying and working at the same time. I'm still at Dev Sir's firm, but at their Bangalore office." She did not know why she suddenly felt comfortable sharing these details with him. Perhaps it was the fact that he had simply let her be, that he had not tried to find where she was and bind her back to the ghosts of the past. He had sent her that email to let her know that he would always be there if she ever wanted to talk to him or needed him for any reason. But he had not imposed his presence on her. He had let her breathe, let her fly, instead of treating her like a child who needed looking after. And this respect towards her autonomy and inner strength had permeated their interactions at the courthouse and legal aid clinic too.
"That's great. You're at a very good university. Make the most of it."
"I will," she smiled, "I was lucky that the firm offered me a part scholarship."
"You have... many friends?" Armaan asked, trying to appear casual, while that familiar stab of annoyance came back to him as he remembered how comfortably familiar that Kartik boy seemed to be with her. His tone was deliberately light but his curiosity evident.
Abhira shrugged nonchalantly. "Not really. I stay busy," she replied, "It's like your Qureshi sa'ab would say, I don't have a life."
"You should," Armaan said, his heart twinging with sadness as he observed Abhira's response. He remembered a time when Abhira had been vibrant and full of life, effortlessly drawing people to her with her infectious energy. His cousins, in particular, had warmed up to her so quickly, drawn in by her magnetic personality, and made her a part of their 'gang' without a second thought.
As he watched her now, he couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for the loss of that spark he had once admired. She seemed to have retreated into herself,and there was a loneliness that seemed to weigh on her despite her attempts to conceal it.
"I don't need anyone," Abhira said softly.
There was a quiet strength in her admission, in her resolve to stand alone. Yet, beneath her words, Armaan sensed a lingering ache, a yearning masked by a façade of self-sufficiency. He understood her desire to guard her heart, to shield herself from further pain, but he couldn't shake the feeling of sadness that settled over him at the thought of her facing the world alone.
"I'm sorry," Armaan said, his gaze earnest as he met Abhira's eyes. "I hurt you a lot, didn't I? My family and I, we...." His voice trailed off, unable to articulate the depth of his guilt and the pain he had caused her.
"It's in the past," Abhira said quickly, not wanting to think of the past and break down into tears again.
Yet, at the mention of his family, a flicker of curiosity sparked within her. Armaan had mentioned earlier that he was not in touch with them. It struck her as strange for someone who had been so deeply attached to his family, whose identity, whose very existence, his reason for living, had revolved solely around them.
Abhira's curiosity got the better of her. "I was surprised when you said earlier that you were not in touch with them," she remarked, her tone gentle yet probing. "Have you tried to patch things up? I'm sure they would forgive you. A lot of time has passed. You should give it a try."
She could not help but feel a pang of sadness for Armaan. Despite his attempts to appear composed, she could sense the loneliness that lingered beneath the surface. That must have been why Mr and Mrs Qureshi too were so worried for him. It was clear to her as well that he spent all his time at the legal aid clinic to avoid going back to his empty apartment. She had never been blessed with a large, bustling family like he had. But he did have a family. Then why did he have to be deprived of their presence?
Armaan could not hide his surprise at the turn that their conversation was taking. These were the very people who had inflicted so much pain on Abhira... They had never shown her the respect and appreciation she deserved, instead treating her with callousness and disdain. How could she speak about them without a trace of bitterness? It baffled him how, in her obvious concern for him in that moment, she could lose sight, even temporarily, of the emotional abuse that she had been subjected to.
"I met Charu in Udaipur the other day, at the courthouse, after you left," Armaan said, his words heavy, "She said the same thing to me. And I told her that I could not connect with them in the same way that I once had... that I did not see in them what a family should represent."
He sighed, as he continued, "Family is where you find safety and love, where you don't have to prove yourself worthy of acceptance or affection. It's where you're accepted for who you are, without judgment or conditions... where you're encouraged to be yourself, to pursue your dreams and passions. A refuge from the world where you'll always find support and understanding. It should be a bastion of respect and kindness, where differences are celebrated, where conflicts are resolved with compassion. A place of solace and strength."
As Abhira fixed her gaze on Armaan, a sense of confusion and concern washed over her. His eyes spoke volumes, holding within their emerald orbs, a profound reservoir of pain, several layers of anguish, as if the verdant depths of his gaze concealed within them, the weight of a lifetime's sorrows. She could not understand. The Armaan she knew had been unwaveringly devoted to his family, unable to hear the slightest word against them. Now, there was a palpable change — a transformation she struggled to comprehend.
"What happened? Why are you saying all this?" she asked, wondering what they could have done to him, said to him, to trigger such a profound change in him.
"Because of the way my family... and I... treated you," he confessed, his gaze fixed on a distant point.
"I was blinded in my love and devotion to them, especially Dadisa," Armaan continued, his tone heavy with regret, his eyes shining with tears. "I believed in everything she said — the importance of tradition and rules, the equation of silence with respect, submission with love. I was so fixated on showing them that their decision to accept me, an outsider, amidst them was not a mistake, that I was grateful for their kindness and many favors... that I was not able to understand the extent of the cruelty meted towards you, when you only had kindness to offer. I thought that if you too, like me, learned to act as per their expectations, you too, would receive their acceptance. I thought that I was protecting you from their anger."
He shook his head, as he continued, "But in urging you to conform, in preventing you from being yourself, from speaking up and saying what you thought, how you felt... I too was complicit in the emotional abuse that you were subjected to, I too was complicit in destroying your spirit. I had been treated like an outsider myself. I should have understood how you would be feeling. I should have been your biggest champion, just like you were for all of us. But I wasn't. I made you feel just as I had felt with them, like you were just a responsibility, a burden... I failed to understand your pain. And I took so, so long to understand all this. It was only after what you said at the courthouse, that I finally started to understand the extent to which you had been broken... by all of us. I can never apologize enough for what we did... You did not deserve that. And a family that normalizes this kind of behavior, that made me a monster too in my desperation to belong... cannot be my family."
Abhira's heart clenched with a mixture of shock and disbelief as Armaan's words reverberated through her. Shock rippled through her veins like lightning illuminating a darkened sky, casting stark shadows across the recesses of her mind. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over as haunting memories of the past flooded her mind — the relentless taunts, the emotional scars, the yearning for acceptance and the countless rejections.
Never had she dared to imagine that Armaan would understand the depths of her suffering, let alone stay away from his own family for her sake. For her. It was as though his words had reached out a hand to pull her from the depths of despair, offering her a lifeline amidst the raging tempest within her. As though she was not alone anymore.
Words failed her, as her tears flowed freely, like raindrops falling from a stormy sky, each droplet a testament to the weight of her burdened heart. She sobbed uncontrollably, the echoes of her anguish reverberating through the confines of her being, a symphony of sorrow that seemed to have no end. Despite her efforts to quell the tide of tears, they continued to fall, relentless and unyielding, as if seeking release from the confines of her troubled soul.
Armaan's heart twisted with an almost unbearable ache, a visceral reaction to the weight of Abhira's tears as they cascaded down her cheeks. It felt as though his chest had become a vessel for her anguish, the heaviness of her pain settling deep within him, threatening to drown him in its depths.
He rose from his chair and approached her, slowly, as if he were navigating through a dense fog of uncertainty, the mist swirling around him mirroring the tumultuous emotions churning within his own heart. Every inch closer to Abhira felt like a journey through the landscape of her sorrow, daunting yet compelling. And yet, there was an undeniable pull drawing him nearer, an instinctual need.
As he reached her chair, Armaan extended his arms towards her. A silent invitation.
Without a word, Abhira rose from her seat, her eyes locked with his, conveying a myriad of emotions. For a moment, they stood there, silently regarding each other, their unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.
Initially hesitant, Abhira found herself drawn to something in Armaan's teary eyes that instilled an unexpected sense of trust within her. As though guided by an invisible force, she surrendered to the pull of his embrace, allowing herself to be enveloped by his warmth. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but they felt different now, each tear carrying with it an unmistakable sense of release, of respite.
..........
comment:
p_commentcount