Infinity in the palm of your hands: C9 Pg2 24 Aug

Author's Notes: This is my favorite story/series and I think its going to remain so for a long time. I have done five chapters on this and it's an ongoing series. Writing every chapter has taken time and I have loved every minute of it.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Title of this story is from a poem by William Blake. It has been my favorite since my school days.

Title of every chapter in this story is title of a poem by Robert Frost. I have liked Frost's poems (though he is not my favorite) for its simplicity and beauty in his words.

I must apologize for the content length. The chapters are super lengthy and it is going to get lengthier, so kindly bear with me.

Prologue

Present:

She was having her morning coffee when a colleague of hers told her that she had a parcel. It was her birthday and odd gifts were arriving since the day before. But she was waiting for one gift that made her feel really special every birthday. She found her gift sitting innocently on her table. There were no fancy gift wrappings, there were no cute messages nor were there any note attached to it. The gift was wrapped in normal brown paper and the address was hand written as always. She felt the stress that she had been feeling for past several weeks drain from her body and a gentle smile settled on her face. Her gift was not a surprise to her but a sudden wave of melancholy hit her when she realized that perhaps, this was the last time she would ever receive this.

Her mood picked up when she found what she had been waiting for several days now; leather bound journal. She ran her hand over it, inhaled the musky scent that she had always associated with the owner of this journal. She had over worked as usual working double shifts continuously. Everyone could see that exhaustion was taking a toll on her but no one had dared to comment on it. When she told chief of surgery that she was taking rest of the day off as she didn't have anything scheduled anyway, he nodded his head even before she could complete her sentence. She was amused by the fact that a senior man like him was sometimes intimidated by her. She gathered her things and offered goodbyes to people whom she met on her way out. As she walked out of the hospital into crispy autumn air, she was hit by nostalgic wave which took her to that day when it all had begun, ten years ago.

Same day, ten years ago:

She could not believe her luck. The whole thing was supposed to be completely innocent. Being a last year student, her best friends had tried to give her a grand surprise on her birthday. During lunch, they had even brought a cake to celebrate. Innocent teasing and smearing icing on her face had turned into one huge food fight across cafeteria. The price for that was detention for her and a few of her friends on the same evening. As a part of detention, her friends were allocated tasks across the school while she was stuck in detention hall. She could count the number of times, in one hand, the times she had ever been in detention. For her, it was an insult.

As she made her way to the detention hall, she wasn't surprised to find it almost empty. There was only one another occupant and she was actually surprised to see him there. Armaan Mallik.

He was sitting at a desk closest to window. She was embarrassed when he caught her staring at him. He seemed surprised to see her there.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her surprise evident in his voice.

"I am here because of the same reason as you are ' detention", she replied.

"I don't think I have ever seen you in detention before."

"I don't think I have ever been here. Besides, how would you know if I have been here or not?" she was puzzled.

"I am here everyday" he smiled at her. She simply stared. He wasn't what she would call as a friend. They were acquaintances who crossed paths every once in a while. They had their own circle of friends and the two groups didn't exactly mix. While he was a popular guy with sports and good grades, she was more of the artsy kind with books and more books in her name. She liked what she was and she held no interest in what he was. Most of her classmates had grown up together since they were toddlers as they were in same school for most of their school years. But last couple of years in high school had this ambience of redefining people and their relationships. High school in a way reflected the socio economic structure of the actual society itself. She knew him of course.

At one point of time, they would have even passed for best friends. As they grew up, they had drifted apart. Both of them had accepted it as a natural course of relationship and thus friends had now become mere acquaintances. They nodded at each other when they passed each other in halls, if their moods permitted them or they simply ignored one another. But whenever they spoke, which in itself was a rare occurrence it always seemed as if the entire atmosphere had stilled to hear them talk. Now here they were, both in their twelfth grade and all set to become strangers for the rest of their lives. He cleared his throat which cut short her reverie and brought her back to his amused face.

"Why do you get detention everyday?" she was flabbergasted.

"To retrospect", was his reply. Now she was intrigued. She had always associated an amount of mystery to his personality. A guy who is popular who cuts classes because he doesn't like the analogy his teacher had given him in English class. It had spread their school like a wildfire and it had amused her endlessly.

"Really?" she voiced her curiosity. At this he looked outside the window which overlooked school grounds.

"Two hours everyday, I get thinking time without any disturbances. I do my homework, sometimes I catch up on my reading and many a times, I just think." He didn't know why he was being so open with her. Yes, they had known each other very well at one point of time, but it was a long time ago. Now, their conversations had been completely non-verbal and he found that he enjoyed those non-verbal conversations with her more than what he spoke with some of his friends. The openness in which she showed her feelings had always overwhelmed him. He continued.

"I love this season. So during autumn, I make it a point to get detention almost every day. Both our teachers and my parents are baffled at my attitude. I don't blame them though. It is a relief to be away from the noise; talking, laughing, ringing of cell phones, clicking of heels, beeps of video games, subtle noise of music et al. The school is almost empty and so quiet that I can almost hear the rustle of the dried leaves outside. There is a melancholic cacophony of dried leaves dancing in the howling wind." His face had a touch of sadness as if he was talking about an old lover. She couldn't take her eyes off him. She remembered the early days when they had felt that a chasm was getting created between them. Now, she couldn't even remember the reasons for that. Perhaps it was something silly as clique or sports or clubs or something like that. Why was she remembering about the past? She blamed it on the autumn evening.

"Can't you do this from your house? You have a room and balcony with a nice view and you can enjoy the season the way you do here."

"There is always a disturbance. If there isn't anything, then there is cell phone", he replied wryly. She chuckled. They were silent for few moments.

"Since we were kids, even in a group, you have always been a loner, haven't you? When you came to high school, it became more pronounced, I guess." Now she was standing by the window next to his desk and was lost staring at the pink skies.

"You have always been a good observant of the society around you", he observed. She simply shrugged. He looked as if he was collecting his thoughts. He spoke after couple of moments.

"What happened to us, Riddhima?" he whispered. He was standing next to her by the window, both looking at the skies, the horizon and lost in their own minds. She didn't answer him for a lengthy period of time. She was actually surprised that there was no teacher present during their detention and they were left unsupervised. She consoled herself thinking that perhaps the teacher had already expected that it would be only two students.

"Life happened", she replied. Two words, in her mind, had explained everything.

"Aren't or weren't we little too young to be classified under this category?" his tone was mildly taunting.

"We grew up Armaan", she sighed. He looked at her.

"Have you ever wondered what would have happened if we had continued to be friends and then perhaps something more?" She searched his face for any insinuation that she had obviously missed. Apparently it was his genuine curiosity which had made him ask this question.

"There are times when I hear a song or see a picture or a movie or a place or a story and then I get suddenly hit by this sudden warmth all around me and at that moment I am lost in the memories of our childhood. Sometimes I am absorbed by this state of mind for an entire day and it has annoyed me to no end. Yes, I have wondered about it. But I don't think we would have been together for a long time though." She looked at him now.

"I thought the same thing."

"Why do you think that?"

"We do not like to indulge in idyllic romanticism. It is not something to be trifled with nor is it out in public for its viewing and judgment. When it comes to that, we are very private people and high school or college for that matter is one such place where things are far from private."

"It's more primal than that, I think", she told him. She had a theory. She always had a theory. He had always mocked her about that. She continued.

"I believe we would have been together by now had we continued being best friends. But the circles in which we were running around and trying hard to be part of, wouldn't have understood what we meant to each other."

"What we mean to each other, Riddhima", he gently corrected her. She nodded.

"We would have been together and I think we would be thinking about medical school now. Maintaining a relationship with the additional responsibilities that would come would have been not impossible, but little hard." She had had thought about this for the entire duration that they had spent in high school. It looked as if he had done the same. It thrilled her a little.

"Why are we so scared of trying?" she asked him.

"Because there is too much at stake", he said it as a matter of fact. She couldn't help but agree to that.

"What do you intend to do about it?" she suddenly felt very stupid. She, the always matured one was now completely relying on a boy's answer.

"Ten years from today, I am going to come and meet you and ask you out for a date", he replied with a small smile. She raised an eyebrow.

"Are you scared of commitment Armaan?" she mocked him.

"I am more scared of losing you over some petty angry words because of stressed life or a hectic life. However, ten years from now, hopefully I will be what I want to be and that would be enough to spend the rest of my life with you." She was speechless at his declaration and she wasn't even sure what exactly was he declaring to her. She couldn't figure out what he was insinuating either.

"For the next ten years, we will have normal lives, I suppose. We will go to college, attend parties, date people and live life the fullest. And exactly a decade later, on your birthday, I will be right in front of your door, with a dozen roses in my hand. On that day I will ask you to go out on a date with me, that is if you are still single at that time." She found his speech a little idiotic and extremely dramatic.

"What if we find someone to find the rest of our lives with?" She felt as if she was the only one being rational. He seemed to have been lost in the romanticism of the season.

"Then you will be with that person", he shrugged as if she had asked him what is two plus two. She noted that he didn't include himself in his answer. She frowned.

"What you want me to do?" She sighed.

"Nothing. Just be how you have been all this while. Nothing has changed between us." His eyes glinted at that.

"If nothing has changed between us, then why does everything seem to be different?" She argued. He gave her a tender smile, the one that made her lose her rationality.

"Once we go out of the detention, we will be the same Armaan and Riddhima who entered this hall. But every once in a while, when life gets overwhelming or when there so much joy or so much pain that one cannot bear, then we become what we are at this moment. Us", he said. She seemed to get a hang of it.

"So we will be in touch?"

"Let's just keep ourselves updated with phone numbers and residential and office addresses. Apart from that, nothing else is important."

"That seems fair enough", she agreed. She didn't know why she was defying every rational argument that her brain had put forward when he started this line of conversation. She immediately ruled out the possibility of crush or infatuation or love or some other silly notion of that sort. She knew that even in his case, the reasoning behind his actions were much different and much deep rooted than teenage adolescent angst and everything that even she had denied. They had lot of time on their hands to figure it on their own.

Once they had gotten out of detention, they had joined their respective friends circle without as much as a backward glance. The morning after her birthday, she had felt as if the two hours that she had spent in detention was an experience that can happen only in alternate universe. But when she found a battered copy of poetry by Robert Frost, she realized that her reality had just become much more interesting than any parallel or alternate universe. As she thumbed down the poetry book, she could see odd doodles, quotations, his point of view scribbled along the margins of the pages. In the few pages that she saw, she could see couple of lines being addressed to her in his hand writing. Yes, everything that had happened on her birthday was serious and it looked like he had every intention of following whatever they had talked about. She was surprised to find that, she was already looking for her future.

Present day:

She had arrived at her apartment in record time. She liked the solitude that came with this apartment. She had requested her friends to postpone her birthday party for the weekend and they had agreed after much cajoling from her. She changed her work clothes to comfortable ones and made herself some tea. She sat down next to the huge bay window and began to read the journal.

(To be continued)

--o00o--

~Sookie

Author's Notes: To be honest, the title of this poem is not even very famous. But I find it to be very intriguing and the whole chapter kind of summarizes my perspective of the poem itself. It's about changes and taking chances which might trigger this change or help people to adjust during that change.

This chapter is lengthier than the last one (3000+ words) and I had to stop myself from digressing. I wrote this in March, I think, and I was being too cynical then. There can be reflection of that aspect of mine on some parts of the stories, for which, I apologize.

Chapter 1:

First Year: On looking up by chance at the constellations

Present day:

She looked out of the window to the street bustling with activity. She would have been one of them walking around the street to meet a friend or to grab lunch on a lean working day. She had the journal in her lap, open at the first page which was dated exactly one year ago. The first time she received the journal was exactly nine years ago today; as a birthday present. She was in college then, the very first time he had corresponded with her after the talk in detention in her last year of high school.

After that they had blended in their respective lives with an enthusiasm that had surprised their friends. She remembered fondly when a fellow classmate who had had a crush on her since kinder garden had finally picked up the courage to ask her to accompany him in year end send-off party.

Ten years ago:

She was at her locker looking at the poetry book given by Armaan. She was reading a particularly interesting anecdote which talked about taking chances and making choices next to "On looking up by chance at the constellations" when she heard someone clearing their throat behind her which followed by a feeble voice saying "Excuse me, Riddhima." She turned around to see her fellow classmate and her childhood acquaintance standing in front of her and looking very, very nervous. It wasn't a secret that he had harbored a mild crush on her since they were very young. She wondered what it was all about. She gently asked him that.

"Will you go to send of party with me?" He asked her after much of stammering, blushing and finally blurting it out. She was taken aback for a moment. She had had no plans to go to the party. Her friend had told her that she would be asked by boys but she wasn't certain about that. She was also glad that there was another human besides herself in this school who blushed as much as she did. She looked at the book she was holding and her eyes caught on the words that were written in the margin. She was lost in her thoughts when the sound of his shuffling feet brought her back to reality. He looked as if he was ready to bear a disappointment and was about to turn back, when her voice stopped him.

"Sure, I will go with you", she said smiling at him. "However, I will let you know that I cannot dance to save my life", she gently warned him.

"I cannot dance either, at least not very well", he confided in her. She laughed and waved him a goodbye after promising to meet him at the venue on the night of party. She was disappointed that he looked at her as if he didn't believe in anything she had said. Her friend badgered her for her reasoning to go to the party. She was famous in her friends' circle to be a kind of one man anti-send off party brigade and now she was volunteering to go to the party and that to with a boy. She had shrugged and smiled at her friend as if she was enjoying a secret that only she was aware of.

On the night of the party, when she had turned up at the venue at the exact time she had promised the boy, he had looked very surprised.

"You actually came", he exclaimed.

"I did tell you that I will be accompanying you to the party and we had decided to meet here. What is so surprising about it?" she retorted. He smiled at her for the first time since the time they had decided on this sort-of date.

"Nothing. You are an incredible girl, Riddhima", he uttered fondly. She simply smiled at him.

She was surprised that she was actually having a very good time. Of course both, she and her acquaintance, had not ventured anywhere near the dance floor, but they had decided to be audience and sat at the farthest table from the dance floor and the one closest to the window. She had developed some kind of sitting next to windows and staring out. They talked about lots of things; growing up in this town, school life, college, future career amongst other minor little things. She was actually glad that she had befriended him. They decided to take a break for sometime and mingle around, meet people and talk to their friends. As she scanned the party hall, she was hit by a sense of loneliness that she could not explain. In few months everything was going to change, people would take different paths and with a few, she might never cross their path in future. The music, people and atmosphere became very stuffy and she walked out of the building towards parking lot to find some solace.

It was a beautiful night and she could see people around who seemed to have the same idea as hers and had come to parking lot for more privacy. That didn't mean that they were any less subtle than the people inside the party hall. The fresh air, star lit moonless night and gentle breeze had indeed refreshed her. She sat there for few minutes looking at the stars and contemplating on her future. She felt a presence next to her and saw a pale hand extended in front of her, asking her for a dance. She knew who it was of course; it was that musky signature perfume of his which always gave away his identity. She placed her palm in his outstretched ones and looked up for the first time. Armaan.

"You are awfully trusting tonight", he said as he danced with her as if he was dancing with a toddler. When it came to dancing, she was worse than a toddler.

"And you really cannot dance, can you? I thought that your dance phobia would go away as we grew up, but apparently I was mistaken" he was grinning now. She smiled back.

"Surprised much?"

"Surprised that you actually came to this party and that too with a guy who perhaps hyperventilated for days after you agreed to go with him", he idly mused.

"Why is it such a surprise that I agreed on a semi-date with him? Even my friends seemed to be very surprised at my decision. Some even thought that I might be pulling a prank on him, you know the old clichd one?"

"So why did you then?" He had given up trying to lead and now they were just standing and occasionally moving around.

"I know that I am his biggest crush. If I had turned him down, then he would start harboring a hate for me which would only increase with time. So, say around after ten to fifteen years, his rage and hatred would have completely consumed him and one day it would snap. Then he would hunt me down, stalk me and eventually kill me. So I accepted to date him so that he won't turn into a psychopath or I become his victim."

"Wow. Trying your hand at writing mystery now?"

"Yes, wasn't that impressive?"

"No." His tone was gruff. They had stopped moving and they sat at a nearby bench. She sighed and looked at the stars again. When she spoke, he voice was soft.

"I was reading a poem from the book you gave me when the guy came and asked me to be his date for the party."

"Which one was it?" His tone held a genuine curiosity.

"On looking up by chance at the constellations", she said not looking at him. He was quiet for a moment or two. She continued.

"Its all about taking chances, making choices isn't it? I could have declined his request and pursued a notion that I believed in and would never have gotten to know how good that person is. Or for that matter, I would not have gotten a chance to dance with you at all."

"So it was all an elaborated ploy to dance with me?" He was teasing her. She laughed.

"We associate people with certain traits of theirs but we never get to know them at all. For me, he had always been the boy who had a crush on me. After knowing that, I had ignored any other fact that could be associated with him. And when I read your words, I understood what you meant by 'taking chance'. You never meant about risking things in our lives. It was about giving people a chance; a chance for them to show that they care or a chance for me to show others that I care and a chance to redeem oneself by discovering one's self." He was smiling and looking at the sky when she looked at him. She knew she was right after seeing his face.

"You are exceptionally perceptive, Riddhima", he said as a matter of fact.

"So are you", she replied. They fell silent and looked at the night sky for quite a while. Once they had gone back inside the party hall, they never crossed each other's paths. It was either fate or it their highly cautious and calculated movements.

Present day:

She had never told any of her friends about Armaan, definitely not. It wasn't because they wouldn't understand. Perhaps they might understand even better than she did. But she was just worried about the implications that knowledge might have on her daily life. There would be teasing, poking, prodding for more information and perhaps they might even hunt him down and talk to him. It would be simply messy. Moreover, there was no way she could explain his journals to them. It was an intimate conversation at an emotional level that they had for the last ten years.

She remembered her first year in college. She had called her parents as soon as she settled down in her new dorm. Her new roommate was her best friend from school and she still was, even now. Once she finished talking to her parents, she had texted her new address to him. She had received a reply from him a week later with his address. There were no hellos nor there were any pleasantries exchanged. She had made a note of that in her diary. She smiled at the memory. College for her was a little overwhelming in the beginning and she had to thank her friends and also him to get through it.

She picked up the first ever journal that he had sent to her from her room and returned to her previous contemplating place. He had had this habit of starting the journal on her birthday and writing in it till her next birthday. So the books that he had given her had one year worth of his memories, his thoughts, and occasionally, what he thought about her. As her eyes landed on the first pages of the journal, she remembered her birthday that year; her first year in college and her first year truly living as an adult.

Same day, nine years ago:

It had been few weeks that she had been in college and she had made few good friends. It was all thanks to her outgoing roommate which had earned her good friends for life. Her friends had decided to celebrate her birthday by eating out in a nice restaurant and then having a private party later on.

Once they were back from restaurant, a decision was made to have that private party in one of her friend's house. She was OK with that. She had gone back to the hostel first to get into some comfortable clothes before she stayed overnight at her friend's house. As she walked along the corridor hurriedly to her room, a girl at the common room told her that she had received a package earlier that day and before leaving, she gave her birthday wishes. She was surprised to receive a gift since she had already received gifts from her parents and also from her close friends. The package, she noted, didn't look any special. She decided that she would open it later since it didn't look like a birthday present anyway. She stuffed it in her bag and left the hostel.

Back at her friend's house, the party was in full swing and they had had fun till late in the night. As she started to feel exhaustion creeping in, she excused herself and retired in the guest room. She decided to open that package she had received and she found herself a corner by the window and opened the package. She immediately knew who it was from.

It was a long notebook, leather bound and almost every page was filled. She read the first entry in the book which was dated exactly one year ago. When she read the entry, she knew what he was talking about. It was the day when she had served detention for two hours with Armaan Mallik from where a journey other than current reality had begun. As she read further, she realized that he had an entry for every day for the past one year. Of course there were misses sometimes, but he mostly got everyday in there. The first words written to her was ' "Happy Birthday, Riddhima". She was overwhelmed by his act. At that moment she decided that it was only fair to tell him about her thoughts, her perceptions and her world. She sat there by the window till wee hours of morning reading the book. It was not meant for reading in a single setting, but she didn't really care. She knew that she was going to read this book to an extent that she would have memorized every curve of the letter, every stroke of the doodles and everything that was subtle. There were very few references of her in the book. She actually kind of liked it that he wasn't being mushy about their predicament. She enjoyed the normalcy that the book provided her. She knew there were many things in the book which would guide her through next one year. She was sure that she would find an entry for her when she is sad or when she is happy or when she is bored. He had written poetry, both original and from famous poets, some anecdotes, recipes of some dishes he had tasted for the first time, review about a new book he had read; there were news paper clippings ' reviews of movies, music, plays, theater, there were movie ticket stubs and other odd stuff. She loved every bit of it.

The next day, her friends had found her sleeping in the guest room on a chair with a book clutched in her hand. When she visited the town at later part of the day, her friend suggested her to get some Henna applied on her left hand. It did look pretty and the first thing that came to her mind was that it would be terrific first entry in her journal. When she showed a lot of enthusiasm, her friend had taken aback a little but encouraged nonetheless. When Henna was being applied, she remembered few words from his journal. "Live life the fullest, Riddhima. Don't alienate people around you. In the end, loneliness is always a choice."

Present day:

She always remembered that. Sometimes, she sacrificed some alone time with herself for the sake of her friends. There was a strange satisfaction in that act. She ran her fingers on those words. She had had a very good life. Of course there were some pitfalls here and there but nothing is ever perfect or constant. During mid-term break in first year of her college, she had visited her home town and stayed with her parents for couple of weeks. She decided to hit the local mall and get some shopping done before she returned to college. At the parking lot, she had come face to face with Armaan and they had stared at each other for few moments. He had motioned her to follow him and he had opened the door at passenger side of his car. She had sat without a word and he drove all around the country side for many hours. They had spent the first couple of hours in complete silence and spent the next few hours talking about their school work. There had been no awkwardness nor had they found it necessary to talk about their personal lives. They seemed to have an unspoken agreement as to not to talk about their personal life in person. She was OK with that.

She smiled at the memory. She could see the afternoon buzz slowly dying down as people got back to their offices or few contemplated on siesta. She picked up the phone and ordered for a pizza for her lunch. In the meantime, she decided that she would read the second book from him.

(To be continued)

--o00o--

Sookie

Author's Notes: "Acceptance" though at first glance seems like a poem based on nature, which is Frost's favorite theme, has a deeper meaning when compared to his other pieces which reflect beauty of nature.

I came across this poem a few years ago and fell in love with last line. (It's the same line that I have used in this story and is the theme of the story itself.) This poem sort of reflected another poem I had read by H.W.Longfellow (who happens to be my favorite poet) and perhaps that's the reason for my ready acceptance :-)

My Apologies: I am sorry that I have not been replying to any of the comments which have been posted for this series. I promise I will certainly do it very soon.

Chapter 2:

Second Year: Acceptance

Present Day:

She leisurely ate her pizza which was delivered only a few minutes ago. She was sitting by the window, looking out and eating her lunch. She liked the slow pace that the day had offered her. There were no ringing phones; there were no hurried lunches, missed meetings et al. It was nice. She had been on odd dates here and there and even then she had made certain to the other party that she wasn't looking for any long term relationship. Her friend was exasperated with her attitude. It was the same friend, Muskaan, who had pushed her to pursue relationship with her classmate in high school, Abhi Modi.

Ten years ago:

She was never really fan of field trips. Though she enjoyed visiting whatever they would be visiting, the journey till there annoyed her. She was one of those people who enjoyed the journey as much as the destination itself. If it was a picnic, then she was up for all the fun and frivolity, but during an educational trip, she wasn't that keen on paying attention to things happening around her. Now that she had a boyfriend, he had made it very clear to her by telling her that he would be saving a seat next to him and that they would have fun. When they arrived at the bus bay, their teacher announced that for each individual, bus had already been assigned. While her boyfriend had crossed his fingers hoping that they would be together, she crossed her fingers hoping for the exact opposite. She found out that luck that day, was indeed on her side. Her boyfriend, Abhi Modi, was disappointed and had even tried to coerce the teacher to make her sit in his bus or vice versa but his efforts went in vain. He had made her stay with him as there was still few minutes left for start time. It was times like these when she felt suffocated with people. She being a reserved child had all the space that she needed during childhood at her home. Even in school she had very few friends and everyone knew how shy and quiet she was.

Abhi Modi was her first boyfriend and he preferred to be around her whenever he had extra time in his hands. It was new to her, being center of someone's attention and being together all the time. When it was time to leave, she offered him a hurried goodbye and walked briskly towards the bus she was supposed to be in. As she got in, she was surprised to see that none of her friends were there. She scanned the bus for an empty seat and found one at the end of the bus. When she looked at the occupant next to the window, her stride stopped in mid-air. It was Armaan. She saw that there were few more seats available but she dodged that idea and took nimble steps towards his seat.

"May I sit here?" She asked him. He was staring intently out of the window, as usual. He looked at her in surprise and motioned her to sit down.

"Did your boyfriend ditch you?" He was curios.

"No. Now, did your girlfriend ditch you or was it the other way round?" She was curious too.

"I gave a very good convincing line of reasoning as to why she is better off sitting in the bus other than this, to our teacher. So here we are", he grinned at her.

"Smooth move", she was impressed.

"What about you? How did you manage to do it? Since you have been with Abhi, I have never seen you without him, apart from few classes, that is", he looked genuinely curious now.

"I have luck on my side today", she retorted. She wasn't trying to be subtle. She was really glad that she found Armaan there, alone, far away from prying people.

"You needed some time alone, didn't you?" he asked her. He wasn't being judgmental; he was simply stating an observation that he had made. It was an observation that was spot on.

"I like Abhi. It's easy to be with him. He makes me laugh, he takes me out on dates and he makes me feel good. It's a nice feeling." She said, not looking at him.

"I am glad you feel that way, Riddhima." He was sincere in his words. However he could see that there was something off.

"But, you are not really happy?"

"I talked about this with Muskaan and she said I was simply being silly or worse scared."

"What is it?" He had an inkling of idea what it might be. Riddhima was different from any other girls he had ever known. She banked on her intellect more than anything else. For her, emotional security depended on a solid rational reasoning. It was an odd dichotomy.

"As I said, it is nice to be with him. We go to games, movies, caf and have a really good time. But there are times when I want to just talk about a book I have read or want to talk about a character from a movie and at that time I feel terribly alone since he is not that interested in that stuff. He either changes topic or suddenly changes plans and whisks me away somewhere. Sometimes, I feel intellectually handicapped when I am with him." She was still looking down at her hands which were now playing with the zipper of her bag. She heard him sigh.

"Why do you think I am here? You know, right now, I am feeling as if we are snobs. Since we are kind of referring to our respective partners as borderline idiots", he reflected. She shook her head.

"Everyone is different from others and everyone is special in their own way. Isn't that the reason why there are cliques in the first place? Everyone wants to feel unique and different from the rest. The normalcy for these people lies in being different from others."

"What happened to good old days of equality in social structure?"

"I don't think there was ever a generation or an era where there was equality in this society. Some people always felt that they were better than the others. The criteria for being 'better' have only changed or increased in number with time." He nodded his head in understanding.

"Social structures are much complex than what it used to be. Even around us, in this bus with total number of students not more than thirty, they are sitting in a certain organized way; kids from basket ball team, kids from chess club et al. People who are good in a certain activity tend to group together. Its always frowned upon when this kind of group exist since the members are potentially segregated from the rest of the student body as a feeling of superiority exists in them."

"It does exist in every part of the society isn't it? There is no escape from this. Instead of thinking that we are different from others, it's better to think that both of us are little alike."

"That seems wise." They both looked out of the window. She couldn't hold her curiosity anymore and asked him what she wanted to know for quite sometime now.

"Why do you have an affinity towards windows? You take seat near windows in classes, detention and library."

"I feel claustrophobic inside a class. I like most of the classes that I take but there are times there is nothing more I want to do than go for a walk or a swim or simply rest my head on lawn. We are always cooped up inside walls and learning things where as the beauty around us blooms and withers without any audience." This is what she had missed in past few days; someone to talk to about obscure things that she reads and sometimes thinks.

"Is that the reason why you cut classes? Because I have seen your grades and they are quite good for a guy who cuts classes that frequently."

"I think that's why I don't get into lot of trouble."

"I think I will do it sometime", she idly mused. Deep in her heart she knew that she would never ditch any classes. It simply wasn't her style. They fell silent and the silence stretched for half an hour. However there was a mute companionship even in that silence which she thought she could never have with Abhi. When she agreed to date Abhi, she knew that there would be lots of things that she would be unhappy with but she still gave it a try. Well, she wasn't exactly unhappy all the time. Maybe this is how it's always going to be. One might never be satisfied with what they have because we always look for our mirror image in the other person and getting that is next to impossible.

"I like being with you", she declared. With him, she had neither felt the need for being subtle nor did she ever feel embarrassed.

"Why is that?" he asked her.

"I don't have to try or I don't have to pretend. I am just me." She relaxed in her seat and dug out the poetry book from her bag. She had read the book enough number of times to memorize every ditty in there. Still, the words around the margin had always ignited a spark of thought in her every time she read them and she managed to hang on to that thought and note it down for future preferences.

"Me too Riddhima, me too", he whispered.

"Let what will be, be", she said.

"Quoting Robert Frost again, I see; 'Acceptance' to be precise."

They both smiled and spent the rest of the journey in silence. While coming back to school from field trip, they had sat together again but never spoke anything till they reached the school premises. Just before she got up from her seat, he thrust a copy of short story collection by John Updike in her hands.

"It's my copy. I will take it from you later." He said as they both started to get down from the bus.

"When will that be?" She asked me as she set foot on ground and stretched her back. She could see Abhi coming towards her.

"After ten years", he replied, walking away and not looking at her, a hint of smile evident in his voice. She however didn't like the sound of him walking away.

Present:

She finished her lunch and disposed pizza box in trash can. She wondered what happened to Abhi Modi. They had met a few years back in her home town when she was visiting her parents. He was still old Abhi who was bubbly and had a childish enthusiasm. She dried her hand thoroughly before she began reading the journal that he had sent eight years ago. She was in her second year of college and completely immersed in her studies. However, it was the same year when she had found herself a boyfriend ' Rahul for the first time in college. Rahul had asked her for a cup of coffee. It was more like he had shouted in the library on her face. She had however found it awfully cute. After a couple of dates, she had introduced him to her friends. They had taken a liking to him the day they had met him. After that, he was one amidst their group and for her, it was the most fun times she had had in college. It was also the first time she went on a romantic birthday dinner.

Eight years ago:

Each and everyone one of her friends was in this plan. Her boyfriend had planned a surprise dinner and dance for her birthday at a very nice restaurant. Muskaan had taken care of the dress, accessory and other sundry things. She had been very excited about her birthday. One part of it was because she Rahul this time to celebrate with and she had been expecting a special present. It was already afternoon for the birthday girl and there was no sight of the package. She didn't show her disappointment in public nor did she make a fuss out of it. Everyone around her had seemed so happy that she didn't have the heart to even bring out a frown on her face. She laughed it off and decided to enjoy the evening with Rahul.

As she was about to leave her dorm, Muskaan remembered something at the last minute.

"It came for you this morning", she said holding out a package. She continued.

"I am sorry I forgot to give it to you in the morning as we were busy doing other stuff. Shall I keep it by your bedside table?" she sounded really apologetic.

"No. I will take it with me." Muskaan had looked at her strangely but had shrugged.

She kept the package in her purse and headed out to meet Rahul. She had a great time with him. It was the first birthday she had celebrated with a boyfriend. A small part of her brain reminded her about her birthday in last year of high school when she spent it with a guy for couple of hours. The same guy who occupied her mind whenever she looked at star lit sky on a moonless night or when she looked at flush lawns in mid-day sun.

Once she was back at her hostel, she found herself a couch by the window and started reading the journal. This time, she found it to be more interesting as it was written by a guy who was a freshman in a prestigious medical college. There was even a reference of the time they had met in the last mid-term break in their hometown, driving around for hours in silence. This time there were less doodles and more anecdotes. In the opening entry, he had as usual started with a "Happy Birthday, Riddhima" and had thanked for the journal that she had sent across.

He seemed very happy when she read some of the entries that involved him and his roommate. It seemed as if they were going to be hard fast friends. She was glad that he had found good friends just as she. She sincerely wished him all the happiness in the world. After reading journal worth of two years of his adult life, she realized that he had developed some sort of affinity towards loneliness and alienation. It was ironic how those were the same two things that he had asked her to avoid. But knowing him, he would have tons of acquaintances and many friends, but rarely anyone would know what exactly was on his mind. Armaan Mallik was a real enigma. But with her, he was an open book; literally.

Reading his journals had always made her happy. In the morning, she had dragged her boyfriend to a nearby caf and treated him for an English breakfast. He was surprised at her sudden cheery mood and had asked her. She shrugged and told him that the previous night she had lived in a wonderful dream. She could see that he didn't understand her and she preferred it to be that way.

Present day:

It surprised her that he rarely talked about his girlfriends. Yes, there were references to them once in a while, but it was never intentional. They would be referenced because they were part of something that he wanted to document. They were never there in his journals because, he liked them. She felt that it was weird. There were times when his name would come up in the conversations about high school. Muskaan would remember him for his looks and would update them about his current affairs. Her eyes would automatically soften but always managed stoic expression. Just before winter break in her second year, she had received a text from him.

"Willing for a drive during mid-term break?" She had replied more curtly.

"Text me when." There was no need for any contemplation nor were there any room for further dissection of her emotions. She had needed a break from being herself too. On one winter morning, she was sound asleep in her warm room when her cell phone had started ringing. When she picked it up, she heard a gentle voice.

"I am downstairs waiting for you. We can stop for coffee first." She had gotten dressed as if she was going to classes back in college; not in a hurry nor very slowly. However that year the silence had stretched for five hours before he broke it. Again they had talked about their school work and discussed about what they might want to specialize in. On that day she had felt sorry for him when he said that he had trouble in settling down with a girl and he already had had half a dozen girlfriends by then.

As her thoughts shifted to her third year, she automatically picked up the journal from that year; the year where she met him outside their mid-term break schedule.

--o00o--

~Sookie

Author's Notes: "Dust in the eyes" is a really short poem. I was not even impressed the first time I read it. I think one needs a certain frame of mind to understand what those six lines mean. Again, I think I have managed to summarize the poem the way I understand it. Kindly let me know.

Here is a tiny anecdote about something that happened to me: You can ignore it and move forward to read the story; no hard feelings :-)

My ex-boss is kind of a ruthless man when it comes to accepting and trusting people. The first time I met him, he had thought I was yet another aloof and unfit technical-team-lead-wannabe. A month or so later, we met formally to decide the course of the project. He asked me how frequently should we meet; weekly, fortnightly or something else. I asked him, "Why?"

He had given me a brilliant smile then and had bought me a cappuccino. This happened two years ago. This morning I met him in office and I asked him what was the reason for his behavior. He said, "Its hard to find a person who rebels against normalcy." Though I don't know what to make of that statement, I think he was calling me odd and/or weird. :-) After that the conversation shifted to "Frank Miller" and nostalgia was lost.

Chapter 3:

Third Year: Dust in the eyes

Present day:

There are times in one's life when they know that the moment in which they are living is very important. In retrospect, those very moments would probably be the life altering ones. Her junior year in college was like that.

Seven years ago:

It was a beautiful Saturday evening and she had a date. She was quite happy with the relationship with her boyfriend, Rahul. They had been together for about a year now and things were pretty stable with him. As she was getting ready she decided to call her mother and chat with her since she had a few spare hours in her hand till Rahul came to pick her up. She was surprised to see that she had a text message. It was from him, Armaan. The message itself was very simple. "I will be there in two hours." She checked the time. The message was sent close to an hour and half before. Technically she had only few moments to make a decision. But her hand had already started dialing involuntary even before her brain had even made a decision to take the next course of action.

As she changed her dress to something more comfortable, the conversation that she had with Rahul a few minutes ran in her mind.

"Why?" he asked. Only, it had come out more as a demand.

"My friend is visiting me. He had texted me couple of hours ago but I checked it a few moments before", she said honestly.

"You can ask him to wait and you can meet him in the morning", he argued.

"I cannot do that, you know that", she said softly.

"Come on, Riddhima. Are you choosing your friend over me?" he asked her as if he was giving her an ultimatum. She didn't find an iota of rationality in his argument.

"He is going to be here for only few hours, Rahul. And I would really like to catch up with him", she replied again being honest with her feelings. She really wanted to know the urgency of the situation. Armaan had always maintained a distance from her in school and even afterwards apart from their annual drive during mid-term break, she didn't really have any sort of contact with him. But how could she make Rahul understand that? There was silence from other end of the phone.

"Rahul?" she asked tentatively.

"Is he very important to you, Riddhima?" he said resignedly.

"Yes", she whispered. She didn't find the necessity to lie about it when she expected and sometimes even demanded people around her to be honest. For her, honesty was not the best policy. For her, honestly was the only policy. She had probably hurt her boyfriend by cancelling their date at the last minute. In her two natures were at war. The independent side argued that the whole conversation was unnecessary; since she was an independent person, there was no need to seek permission to cancel the date. But the other side that argued back which strangely had the voice of Armaan, said that Rahul was an important presence in her current life and he deserved an explanation for her actions to maintain an honest relationship.

"Fine Riddhima. Can we meet tomorrow for dinner?" he asked her.

"Absolutely", she answered with certainty. She was thankful that Rahul hadn't pressed her for details about Armaan.

It was surprising that Armaan had decided to visit her all of a sudden. Thankfully her roommate, Muskaan, was away for the weekend and was visiting her boyfriend's farm. If Muskaan had been around then things would have been little awkward. She was on an edge about the whole situation. It was very unnatural for him to be so impulsive. She could not shake the feeling in her gut that something was off; something was wrong. She spent next thirty minutes in sheer nervousness.

She knew that things were definitely wrong or downright horrible when she saw him outside the door. He was a mess. Armaan had always been the personification of calm faade. Most girls were drawn to his composed outlook and then drowned in his gentle disposition. But today, he looked anything but. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair in a disarray, unshaven face and sporting a haunting look. For a moment, she could not believe that he was the same boy with whom she went to school with. As she ushered him in, she could see tears pooling in his eyes and automatically hugged him.

It took only a moment or two for him to breakdown. She could feel the vibrations from him as sobs wracked down in his body. She felt his tears wet her shirt and his arms around her in a steely grip. At that moment, he would not have let her go away from the embrace even if she wanted to. She had expected that the first physical contact that she would have with him would be a byproduct of a romantic or at least a friendly situation. She never thought it would be resultant of his depressed state of mind. After three quarters of an hour, he released her from his embrace.

"May I use the bathroom, please?" he asked her not looking at him. She simply waved her hand in the direction of bathroom. She sat down on her bed as she listened to running of water in sink. She still didn't know what had happened to him that had reduced him to this state of mind. When he came back into the room, he looked refreshed, relaxed and the storm in eyes had abated. The haunting look however was still in place. He sat next to her on bed and they spent few minutes in silence. She wondered how it was possible for her to be silent for such a long time with another individual. She wasn't a talkative person per se, but she couldn't endure very long stretches of silence. It psyched her immensely. She preferred people around her talking irrespective of the fact that she generally would not contribute much in the conversation.

"My roommate died", he rasped.

"How?" she questioned him. She remembered reading few words about his roommate. If Armaan had written about him, then it meant that they were really close.

"Does it matter?" he asked her. She guessed it didn't really matter. It did matter to know if the end was destined by cruel act of fate or was it that guy's own decision. She however didn't ask him that.

"Probably not", she answered.

"I have never seen death so close to me. I could touch it; I could sense it and I could feel it. It drained away life from me when I saw him lying motionlessly. It was hard to dissect what I was feeling. After a little while I realized that I wasn't feeling anything at all. I was numb. He was a very good friend and we have had some good times together. He was the only person who knew about you, you know", he said wearily.

"What exactly happened to him?" she asked him. Maybe knowing the reason for his friend's death would give her a better clarity about the situation in hand. Because she was finding it hard to believe that he would breakdown to this extent no matter how tragic the situation was.

"It was a freak accident; that's what has happened. He was in a wrong place at the wrong time and fate chose him", he muttered.

"What happened next?" she asked.

"I got a call from Police, to do primary identification. I stayed with my friend's body till his parents arrived. His parents were devastated", he said numbly. She took his palm in hers and linked her fingers with his. He took couple of deep and calming breaths before continuing.

"After spending close to ten hours at the hospital and station, I could not bring myself to go back to my dorm. There were too many memories, too many reminders of him around the place. But I had to collect his things to give it to his parents. It was the least I could do", he said tightening his hold on her palm.

"And that is when you broke down", she said finishing for him.

"His life of two years were boxed and kept ready for his parents to pick up. I could not stay there for a moment longer. I left them a note and drove down here", he said. She realized then that he hadn't rested much in last thirty-six hours. She gently pulled him down with her on the bed and took him in her arms. He settled his head above her heart, its gentle thudding relaxing him immediately. She could sense that his breathing was now steady compared to earlier erratic one and felt that he had calmed down somewhat.

"What is it?" she asked him when she heard him sighing deeply.

"We make innumerable plans for future, for tomorrow when there is no guarantee that we would be even alive in the next moment. We plan out our entire life based on a probability that we are going to be alive when the plan is getting executed", he replied.

"No one is born with a prior knowledge of life expectancy Armaan. Deep in our hearts all of us know that nothing is certain in this life; our own life or the life of our loved on or life of our pet. Yet, we do live with a hope that there is a probability of seeing tomorrow. It is the same hope that drives people to make promises, to fall in love and to plan for a future. If that didn't exist, then the world would have ceased to exist a long time ago", she said. They spent the rest of the night in silence. He fell asleep somewhere around midnight and held on to her till morning. With the rays of early morning sun, he left her. As they walked towards his car, she asked him what was bothering her all through the evening.

"Of all the places where you could have gone, why did you come here?" she asked him.

"When I was packing my friend's stuff, a thought crossed my mind. This kind of freak accident can happen to anyone at anytime yet we forget to tell people how much they mean to us because of some silly ego or an old rivalry or something equally inane. That thought did more damage on my already sorry state mind than on any normal day, so it was more of a whimsical decision to be near you. When it comes to you I generally give into my intuition and to what my heart desires; I never really fought with rationality whenever you are in the equation. And most of the times, my decisions are right", he replied not looking her. She simply nodded her head. He waved her a goodbye and drove away. She stood there contemplating for sometime about past twelve hours. Only when she was inside her dorm, she realized that being with him had been completely natural as if they were together for years. She decided to get some sleep before she started for the day. She remembered a line from a poem she read in the first poetry book Armaan had given her. "And around a corner, a blizzard snow for dust, and blind me to a standstill if it must." It was ironic how people reset their priorities in their life when fate does the initial reset of their priorities first. It is as if people need to learn a lesson first to know what they really want. Sometimes, these lessons came with a big price. As she drifted off, she could feel his presence all over her dorm and she fell into a deep sleep.

Two weeks later, she had received her journal. This time however, she didn't open the package till end of the week. She enjoyed her birthday with her friends and with her boyfriend. Her boyfriend had arranged for a fantastic dinner at a swanky restaurant and they had had a very good time. She purposefully avoided opening her package that day. She knew what to expect out of it and she didn't want

For the weekend, she planned for a hike and decided to go alone. She convinced Rahul that it was something that she had to do alone. For the entire day, she sat by river bed and read the journal. She felt herself tearing up when she read the entries for the last two weeks. As she began to drive back to her college, she called him on a whim and spoke to him during entire journey. She mentally thanked god for "hands free" for cell phones. After that day she didn't spoke to him till they met during mid-term break.

Present day:

The annual drive that they took during mid-term break was filled with laughter and long conversations. She teased him for giving a speech instead of a small answer and he teased her for writing him a novel instead of a letter. He sobered when she threatened that she would cut down on her words. The evolution of their relationship or whatever it was called was very, very slow and gradual. Her third year was one of the most fun filled year and those were the days that she and her friends remembered all the time. Because final year had meant end of college life and final year had also meant end to lots of things. Final year in her life had always been life altering. She had enjoyed blossoming friendship slash companionship with Armaan during high school senior year and Rahul had taught her a very important lesson during her college senior year.

(To be continued)

--o00o--

Sookie

Author's Notes: Again, not a famous poem by Frost but its popular amongst literary circle for the metaphor that it presents. While Longfellow has a direct way of telling things, Frost is much subtle. The firs time I read this poem, I was bored after reading first two lines. But once I read the last four lines of this poem, I spent next thirty minutes memorizing this poem. It is now, one of the poems that I read quite often.

My Comments: Guys, you have been super cool in leaving comments, words of encouragement and some of your anecdotes. To answer NJ, the facts, stories that I present in this story are not my personal experiences, but they are something I wish I had. I am so grateful to see that there are people out there who can connect with what I write. It's truly amazing.

Again, many thanks for your comments and reviews and my sincerest apologies for not answering. Tomorrow, I will. It's a promise. :-)

Enjoy the story!

Chapter 4:

Fourth Year: A passing glimpse

Present day:

With time and distance, she had seen people drifting apart. She believed that it took lot of effort to continue a relationship or even a friendship when distance separated people. Maybe that's why, she theorized, why friends drift away with time. No one had that kind of time or energy left to talk worry about people who were thousands of miles away. And maybe that's why people fell out of love. Armaan had laughed when she had said that. He said, distance cannot necessarily be physical; even at an emotional level, if people maintain a certain distance, drifting apart was an inevitable consequence. She thought that's what had happened between her and Rahul.

Six years ago:

She had always liked first day back to school. She could see various moods of people at one given place and in one given time. She was at a cafe where she and Rahul had decided to meet on their first day back. She was excited to meet him since the contact that they had had over the summer were in emails and phone calls. Also, she wanted to tell him about her internship. She had spent the summer as an intern at a small charity hospital. Her natural skill as a doctor had come in handy and she was loved in her working place. With small working places, people had a tendency to group together as a close knit family; they celebrated every life saved and mourned together for loss of one. She was surprised to find that closeness in a group of forty trying to make a living in a hospital which had minimum funds. With her repertoire, she could have easily gotten into any of the leading hospitals in the country, but there was something that had driven her to choose a small but a humane hospital had mentioned in one of his entries that smaller businesses run tightly and always have more room for improvement. Since they have to compete with the big wigs, they had to learn things very fast, put additional effort and doctors generally took up more responsibilities in their role. This was all true if that hospital was really out there to grow and compete with the others. The hospital where she worked was there for the true meaning of the service that they provided; to help people. Subconsciously she had chosen to work in that small hospital because of exactly the reasons as Armaan had mentioned. As an intern, she wanted to learn new things than getting her name associated with a popular name; she didn't even think of it as a sacrifice. Rahul was surprised by her decision and had tried to talk to her out of it. But she had not budged.

She was broken out of her reverie when she heard a soft "Hello Riddhima". She smiled at him in response as he took a chair opposite to her.

"How was your summer Rahul?" she asked him. She was truly happy to see him. She loved him as a good friend.

"It was fine Riddhima", he answered softly. He was looking outside the window which was next to where they were seated. His voice was passive and she felt evasiveness seeping from him body language. She decided to confront him. There was no point in having conversations that didn't add on to the quality of what was going to come next.

"What is it Rahul?" she asked him. She had an idea what it could be.

"Over the summer I got engaged", he answered without looking at her. She was silent for few moments. She wondered what the expected reactions in these situations were. With Abhi, the separation was mutual; they were going to colleges situated at different parts of the country and they had respected their companionship enough to part as good friends. But with Rahul, she was at loss.

"Riddhima, I know you are upset now, but please hear me out", he pleaded. She wasn't sure if she was upset. She wasn't sure what she was feeling at that moment. She was surprised at the news but it didn't shock her enough to throw a tantrum or cry and fuss about sudden loss of relationship.

"In all honesty, I don't know what I am feeling Rahul. I am shocked at your news, yes. I am appalled at the fact that you took our relationship of three years for granted and decided to end it for whatever reasons you might have. Since you have already taken the next course of action, I don't think what I feel is going to contribute much in either of our futures", she replied bluntly. It was an awkward silence.

"I am sorry, Riddhima", he said and walked out of cafe.

She sat there watching the chair he had now emptied. She wondered what standing did she had had in Rahul's life. They were good friends and then they were more. The initial awkwardness, shyness and the tiny fear of exploring the unknown in their relationship was gently broken by him. With him, she was just another girl who enjoyed a good movie and a stunning dinner; even if he sometimes failed to understand what exactly she was talking about. As she walked out of the cafe she could see glimpses of onset of autumn. It was like watching a movie trailer in winter for coming summer's blockbuster. Most schools opened during fall which ironically marked an ending to good weather. And her life this year seemed like it was in perfect synchrony with changing seasons. Her longest relationship had ended and now she had bleak stretch of winter to look forward to.

She sat in her car and decided to tell Muskaan her news. But she immediately ruled out that thought; she had always liked to bask in happiness alone for few days before she allowed anyone else the good news and now she decided to do the same for bad news too. At that moment, she didn't want sympathy or pity. She drove into the evening wherever the road took her, driving without a goal and driving to calm her rampant thoughts. After about thirty minutes of driving, she called Armaan on a whim. It had been more than six months since they last spoke and there was still few weeks left for her birthday. He picked up after three rings.

"Are you alright", he asked her as soon as he answered. She wondered why they never exchanged customary 'Hello' anymore. They always dove right into conversation and topic at hand.

"Yes. No. I don't know", she answered truthfully. She had no idea what she was feeling. Breaking up with a long time boyfriend was supposed to be big. But in her case, her calm acceptance of getting dumped was slightly disturbing.

"Where are you right now?" he asked. She could hear him shuffling around in background. She could give her location only after driving for few more minutes.

"You don't even know where you are driving. Don't you have a GPS?" he gently admonished her.

"Where is the sense of adventure when you know where you are and you know what is going to come next? Sometimes ignorance can be the root cause for a fascinating experience. If knowledge is always at our disposal, then mistakes are always calculated and there is mostly no room for irrational decision", she answered lightly.

"I would have completely agreed with your argument if this was early nineteenth century; its not and its dangerous out there. Technology mainly changes because people's attitude towards each other changes. When people didn't want to stop and ask for directions because they couldn't get the map right, GPS came into picture."

"But Armaan, people didn't want to stop and ask for directions because it wasn't safe to do that anymore; people were mugged, killed or abducted", she replied. She had currently parked her car at a gas station at his request and was walking around talking to him over the phone.

"It's saddening to see what one human can do to another. Lack of faith in fellow humans is one thing, but trying to bridge that using technology is another thing entirely", he mused.

"But I am glad I am in that age of technology when I can call up a friend when I am having a bad day", she retorted. She heard him chuckle. After a few moments he asked her to write down directions to a place which would be approximately a two hour drive from where she was.

"What do I do in this place?" she asked as she started the car.

"In that place, you and I will talk", he replied and hung up the phone.

She had not anticipated that from him but she whole heartedly welcomed it. At this point, she wanted to have a conversation which didn't involve dissecting how Rahul was wrong for her or how Rahul was the villain in this drama. At this point, she wanted someone to listen to her confusion and perhaps help her untangle knots in her mind. As she drove, she revisited the times that she had spent with Rahul from her mind's catalog. He was a hopeless romantic and that trait in him had amused her immensely. He was creative when it came to appeasing her when she was being irrationally stoical in her stand. As she sifted through her memories, she wondered if they were truly being equals in that relationship. He was one of those people who had this urge to protect his girl from the harms of the world; be it weather or people. She at times had felt his constant presence stifling but had ruled out the very next moment when he cajoled her to eat a candy bar since she had missed a meal. At that moment, she was immensely grateful for his presence in her life. Was she disappointed that she was going to miss his constant presence around her? Or was she disappointed with the fact that she would have nothing to fall back on when things got hectic or stressful?

She thought about her times with Rahul, cataloging them in her mind and that act made her realize that even if Rahul had broken up with her, she would still hold an ounce of affection towards him for the rest of her life. After driving for two and half hours, she arrived at the planned destination late in the afternoon. He was already seated in a table for two by the window. It was a cozy cafe; the one to which people can go alone with a good book and a healthy addiction to coffee. She was given a warm welcome by the host and fellow coffee patrons exchanged smiles with her as she walked towards him. In that atmosphere, she felt the exhaustion that was unknown to her, leave her slowly.

He gave her a smile as she took a chair opposite to him.

"Did you have a good drive?" he asked her. Again, she noted that there were no pleasantries exchanged.

"Yes, I did. I was busy thinking about the past to enjoy the scenery though", she replied with a smile. With his fixation of autumn, she knew why he was asking about the drive. He chuckled at her answer.

"So, what happened?" he asked her once the waitressed had served them their coffees.

"Rahul left me", she said and took a sip of coffee. She, however, didn't break eye contact with him though.

"Why?" he asked. She didn't detect anything apart from genuine curiosity in his voice.

"He got engaged", she answered.

"Did he left you and got engaged or he got engaged and then left you?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" she retorted wryly.

"I guess it does not", he replied. They stared at each other for few more minutes.

"What is it?" he asked her softly. As expected, his reaction was very different from what she can cent percent guarantee from others.

"I don't know why I wasn't as upset as people are expected to be when they are dumped. I had relationship with Rahul for three years and it took him one summer to decide that his and my paths in near future had to be changed. So he acted upon it. Shouldn't I be at least angry at his presumptuous nature?"

"Are you upset that you are not feeling anything at all or are you upset that you are not feeling the things that are generally expected out of the person who has just been dumped?"

"Are they different?"

"Of course, they are", he replied. "Do think about it", he added a moment later.

They stared at the late afternoon traffic outside the window. She played with the napkin and his fingers played on the rim of the coffee cup. She noted that both of them had a habit of looking away when they tried to organize their thoughts.

"I am disappointed", she broke the silence after half an hour. He nodded at her to continue.

"When I was driving to come to this place, I remembered the times that I had spent with Rahul. He is really a good guy. I think I am disappointed with the fact that the relationship that had come to mean so much to me was ended without any rational reasoning from him", she mused.

"If he did tell you the reason for your break up, then would you have tried to bargain with your own reasoning?" he questioned.

"No. I wouldn't have done that. But I would have definitely liked to know the thing about me which made him to break up in the first place", she was now looking at her coffee mug.

"Are you feeling sorry for yourself?" he asked her incredulously.

"Please, don't belittle my reasons. I am much more than that", her eyes flashed when she said that. He smiled an apology.

"Till we reach a certain age, we are mostly what we have defined ourselves as. But as we grow up, there are factors around us that influence in being what we are. The decisions that we take, the choices that we make are regulated by how people perceive us and how we want them to see us", she continued.

"I understand that. No matter what we really want, sometimes, our responsibilities drive us to make choices which we perhaps might not make under normal circumstances." He remembered the times his father had to leave dinner, family gatherings, parties, ball practice because there was an emergency at the hospital. As a young boy, he was disappointed with his father but as he grew up he saw how torn up his father was between what he wanted to do and what he had to do. From then on, he had cut some slack for his father and had coaxed his mother to do the same. When he saw his father's stiff stature relax, he felt his efforts were worth it.

"That is correct. Our personalities do get shaped up because of people who are in our lives. No matter how hard we try, the influence is unavoidable. Rahul has been in my life for three years and they are the crucial years of my life. My memories with him are permanent and so is the fact that he dumped me without a reason", she responded.

"We can sit here for hours and theorize the exact reasoning for his departure from your life. Is that what you want?" he asked her. He knew that this was life altering for her and also knew that this incident is going to influence her decision every time a boy approached her in future.

"Perhaps knowing his reasons of leaving you would give you an idea of what his expectation truly was. But will it change the outcome of your decision?" he added.

"No. I don't think Rahul and I will be together ever again", she replied with a certainty. They fell into a comfortable silence. They decided to take a walk around the small town and enjoy the crisp autumn evening. After walking for few minutes, he broke their silence.

"So, now tell me, what you are feeling", he asked her the same question again. He had a feeling that this time, her answer would be clear and void of any confusion that she had felt before. This would not be a moral-of-the-story kind of revelation. It would be like, this-is-life-deal-with-it kind of lesson.

"I think I am going to miss him. I will always have affection for him though it might just fade away with time. I don't hate him. I am just disappointed in the predicament in which I am rather than disappointed with Rahul, the man himself, even if it was he who is the reason for my current situation", she said not looking at him.

"People who get very close to us take a little piece of us and leave a little piece of them with us. Over a period of time, those things fade away or get lost in our daily routine but on evenings like these, it walks past us with an intensity of soft autumn breeze; the echo of rustling of the leaves bring out the buried memories. And I sincerely hope, the memories that have surfaced are those that end on a happy note", he replied.

She smiled at his answer. Talking with him hadn't given her solutions but it definitely gave her insight to her state of mind. She came to talk to him to get her confusions cleared, but she got serenity in return. She would always remember Rahul. He was the one who taught her how to eat noodles using chopsticks. He taught her Origami and stocked cereal bars in his dorm just for her sake. He read poetry when she caught cold and held her while watching a horror cinema. Yes, she was definitely going to miss his presence in her life. She smiled at Armaan who was now looking at her intently with an eye brow raised.

"How about getting some early dinner before we part? My treat", she asked him. He took her hands in his and interlaced their fingers.

"Lead the way", he said.

As they walked hand in hand, she could clearly see changing seasons all around her. She couldn't wait for winter though.

Four weeks later, she received her parcel. The last four weeks had been very interesting for her. Her friends had taken her break up worse than she had expected. One of her friends had even cornered Rahul and his fiance to give him an earful. She had called Rahul to apologize for her friend's behavior. No matter how much Muskaan wheedled her, she never told where she had disappeared to on the day of break up. If she had told the truth to her friends, they would psychoanalyze it endlessly and bombard her with questions for which she might not even know answers. In the end, her friends would be through with speculation and she would have a migraine.

She had spent her birthday weekend cooped up in her dorm and reading his journal. She noted that this time, his words had a deeper tone to it. She was thankful for including her in his life in this way. She remembered the lines - 'Heaven gives its glimpse only to those not in position to look too close'. When she reached the end, she saw a small leaf pasted to one of the sheets. The sheet was dated four weeks ago. It was the same date, the day she had met him on the day of her break up. The leaf itself was a tiny one and bright green in color. It reminded her of the color of his eyes and something that was still unchanged by changing season. The metaphor was not lost on her. The young leaf represented them, Armaan and Riddhima, unchanged with each other against rapidly changing individual lives. She smiled at that memory.

Present day:

During winter break, they spoke about their careers, school, poetry, driving, autumn, forgotten friends, celebrity crushes, Robert Frost and GPS. She confided in him that she was scared to go out in the world after her senior year. He replied by saying that he had the same fears too. When they parted in the evening, he had hugged for the first time. She closed the journal that she had received in her senior year. She had preserved the green leaf by pressing it between two sheets of wax paper. Her friends had asked her relentlessly about it but she hadn't budged. Her senior year was indeed very eventful. But life was just beginning.

(To be continued)

--o00o--

~Sookie

Author's Notes: I love this poem. It has dark humor (if you want to see it that way), self mockery and a realization. The philosophical aspect of this poem is often debated amongst the critique circles and the one presented in this story is fully my point of view. I have molded my understanding of the poem around the protagonists.

I loved writing this chapter. I discarded my older drafts and wrote this in one sitting of four hours. This chapter is my personal favorite.

On a side note: I would like to know which poem would you like me to do next. Please note that the choice of poem also directs the storyline in itself. Drop me a comment if you have any suggestions as to how to continue this story.

Again, many thanks for comments and continuous support through the series and my apologies for not updating this for so long. Writing this series is becoming kind of mentally draining experience.

Enjoy the story!

Chapter 5:

The Door in the Dark

Present Day:

First job is definitely not like first love or first kiss or first of whatever. First job for her was pure purgatory.

Five years ago:

She had thought graduating high school and starting college was the beginning of life. She was never more wrong. College was an extended high school where there was a taste of independence that her future life offered. In reality, four years of life was planned out for her; tests, exams, assignments, tuition fees, small jobs, summer internships, winter breaks et al. She understood the true meaning of independence when she landed in her first job. Of course it wasn't the first time she was working. She worked in a retail store when she was in high school helping out a friend. She worked in a coffee shop while in college. She even had worked on a summer internship program. But none of those experiences counted for the responsibilities that were given to her. The first month killed her.

It wasn't the anxiety of seeing new people around her nor was it things that she had to do in short notice; it was about dealing with everything, alone. She came home to an empty apartment and found that living alone wasn't all that great. Her friends were also in the same city as hers but like her, they were struggling with settling down too. Like her friends, even she wished she had someone really close to talk to; someone who would just lend their shoulder for her to lean on. When things got overwhelming and when she felt she couldn't control her tears, she locked herself in a bathroom, with cell phone in her hand and Armaan's number selected. One press on 'call' button, she would rediscover her sanity, but she always withheld that urge. After a good cry, she just washed her face and went back to her work. She found it strange that no one really yelled or created a scene when she messed something up. The ramifications of her mistakes were not ignored; not by her boss nor by her colleagues. It astonished her to see that she got hurt by subtle comments made by her colleagues rather than the blatant yelling that she generally received in her older jobs. Why were people that way? Relationships would be so much easier to handle and to maintain if people simply spoke what's bothering them. When she told this to Muskaan, she had laughed.

"What fun would there be in conversations if everything was laid out in plain sight?"

"For one, there would be fewer misunderstandings. Two, there would less talking. Three, there would be no migraine", she replied.

"Welcome to the real world, Riddhima", Muskaan had answered solemnly.

And that had been the end of all further conversations.

It had been one of the worst days that she had ever had. She was with the resident psychiatrist that day participating in one of the therapy sessions as an observer. What she heard in the session had nauseated her and made her feel disgusted with the world. When the trust that a young girl puts in her family members is used against her, it is perhaps the death of humanity itself; at least that's what she thought. Even though the men had been brought to justice for their actions, she thought that the girl was beyond repair. Life, morality, rationality, hope and faith are all tied to each other with a very fragile thread. Once that thread is broken, it takes years to come back to its original state. That girl might shiver at the thought of a man walking a feet away from her or might be promiscuous to avenge against humanity in her own way. She gave up trying to understand Freud. But hearing the accounts of the girl about the things that were done to her for almost a decade had made her edgy. Once the session was finished, she excused herself and ran to the nearest rest room. When she sat on the toilet seat, she found that she could not even cry. The numbness that she was feeling all over had seeped through her skin, her skeletal system and hand now entered her heart. She decided to go home as she felt there was no energy left in her to do anything.

At home she just stood by the window and looked out at the vast expanse of the city. When she was fumbling through her bag to retrieve her cell phone, she found a packet of cigarettes that she had confiscated from a young boy that morning who was trying to relieve his stress by smoking in the fire exit. She had lectured him for a few minutes. The boy had thrown her a look of pity. "You might be a doctor but you have no idea how bitchy life can be." He had scoffed at her. Now she had that same packet in her hands, one of them drawn out and other hand held her cell phone. As she was contemplating, she remembered an anecdote that he had written in one of the earlier journals. He had developed some sort of addiction to pain medication and it had taken few weeks of therapy and determination on his part to overcome that. "Riddhima, there comes a time in your life when you are emotionally hurt to such an extent that you would want to convert that into physical pain. If you ever have that moment in your life, then please remember these words and call me. We will get through that phase together." When she had read for the first time, she had rolled her eyes and thought that he was being paranoid. But now, she couldn't believe how right he was. Perhaps it was only a matter of time.

She finally gave into that urge.

He picked the call after couple of rings and he was short breathed when he answered her.

"Is everything alright?" he asked her. They had almost never spoken since the last winter break and it was as if they now had an unwritten rule to call each other when things got a little rough or overwhelming. Or made them give up on everything including sanity.

"I have a cigarette in my hand and the lighter is close by", she answered morosely.

"It's quite late. Did you have your dinner?" he asked her ignoring her earlier statement. She was a little surprised.

"No. Not yet."

"Let's make kimchi then", he said happily. She was torn between being surprised and being hurt by his evasive words. Before that, she had to quell her curiosity.

"What is kimchi?" she asked him. No matter what her state of mind was, at her core, she was a scientist who would get restless when things she didn't understand were hanging around her.

"It's something that you and I are going to prepare. Together." Now she was greatly surprised.

"Together? How do we do that? What is it exactly?" Her curiosity was slowly gaining an upper hand over the emotional turmoil she had been feeling since that afternoon.

"We prepare it in our kitchens respectively, of course", he said as if he was teaching a little girl how to ride swings. In a way, it was exactly that, he thought.

"How about we start putting things together and I explain all your questions when we are at it?" he gently cajoled her. He knew that one wrong word from him, she would go back to her shell and would accept an agony that she didn't deserve and blame herself for the state of her mind and for everything around her; when she was at it, she might perhaps even blame herself for holes in ozone layer.

"Fine Armaan, but this better be good", she replied sternly. She hadn't even realized that she had carelessly thrown the cigarette packet on the floor and was mildly excited about something interesting that was going to happen in her kitchen.

"Come on Riddhima, don't you trust me?" he said it pretty casually but she could not get past the underlying urgency in his words.

"With my mind", she said. He gave her an easy laugh. Once she had told him that she valued her mind more than anything in the world; even more than her life itself. He had understood the simplicity in her reasoning and had wholeheartedly accepted it. In a way, she had bestowed highest honor that she might every grace upon on anyone.

He proceeded to give out instructions on the recipe of his favorite Korean food/snack neither of them noticing sundown or the battery indicator in their cell phones slowly moving towards emptiness. He said that cooking was like coming to a full circle. You start with raw materials, work on them to produce something entirely new and finally eat it and that's that. It's finished. The whole cycle ends there. That's why, he said, he found cooking to be a very gratifying experience and not to mention a great stress buster. For him, cooking didn't pose the challenge that his life or work generally did.

"Everything comes to a full circle; whether we like it or not; just like life", she had muttered.

"But it's the transition from the start point to the end which is bothersome", he had quipped.

"Would you like it any other way?"

"No. I prefer greasing my hands and learning the nitty-gritty rather than someone handing me out a user manual. There is a possibility that I would lose time because of that, but I wouldn't trade that experience for all the knowledge in this world", he had responded her fondly.

"I like self made men", she had replied quite seriously.

She stood by her bedroom window still on call with Armaan but both of them reflecting on their lives. She could see tiny flakes of red chilly stuck in between crevices of her chipped nails and she knew that she smelled faintly of garlic, radish and comfort. He broke their silence.

"Have you read this poem called 'The door in the dark'?"

"Isn't that by Frost?" He hummed in affirmation.

"I like that poem for the simple fact that it tells you to learn your lessons in the hardest way. Most of the times, living life is like groping to find a door in the dark. Even if we are aware of the circumstances around us, we still have absolutely no certainty over the outcome of that circumstance. One might get lucky and find that door without getting hurt. A few might get scratches here and there and eventually find that door. But many keep on searching for that door, groping in the dark and even if they did find that door, it might get shut on their face and they will have to start all over again."

"If I am the one who is searching for a door in the dark, then what are you doing?" she asked him amusedly. She had always liked his analogy on poetry. The way he explained her things made her think of them being in a park, her sitting on the swing and him gently swinging her and talking to her about everything in this universe. She liked that picture very much.

"I am the one who is now turning on the light", he replied casually. There was no need to introduce more words into their currently smoothly flowing conversation. She was fairly intelligent girl and he knew that she would understand the underlying meaning of his words. When there was no reply from her for an elongated period of time, a slight panic rose from the pit of his stomach.

"What is it?" he asked her softly. He didn't know what would happen to him if at this moment she were to nullify his insinuation. It would take him months to recover, perhaps.

"I can see you standing next to switch board", she answered equally softly. The pleasure that he felt by her answer had made him severely satisfied and at that moment he thought that he could take on the world, if he wanted to.

"There is a full moon tonight. Do you have a view of that from your apartment?"

"I can see it from my room. It's beautiful out there but unfortunately these city lights are too bright to fully enjoy moonlight." He was now standing next to a window in his room looking at the sky.

"You know, in almost every culture, moon has been personified to a human. Initially I found it very fascinating how everyday common occurrences have different interpretation among different cultures. Each story giving a reason of its own to moon's existence or its shine or the shadows on it. In most of these stories one could easily derive a moral which is a reflection of the culture itself."

"There is also an element of religion in some of them, is it not? Stories have been weaved around basic teachings of religion using everyday characters and sometimes even animals." His mom used to tell stories while she cooked lunch on Sundays. Even when he was old enough to call himself an adult, he never traded his Sunday lunch with any other activity irrespective of how enticing it was. It was then he had understood why moms' cooking is the best in the world. Even now when he went home for vacation, he followed his mom around the kitchen like a little puppy always eager for attention and adoration. His eyes misted at the thought of his family.

"Almost every moral story in one religion has a parallel existence in another. In the end they all seem to teach the same thing. Be good, be hard working, be honest, have faith, respect fellow humans etc. To have a harmonious society there has to be a common set of ideology to avoid any unnecessary confrontation between ideals. Thus, a religion was born." In her world, if something was not tangible, then it did not exist. In her world, heartache because of someone's grief did not exist either; that was until she met him. Heartache was not tangible or was this unique connection that they shared. But whenever he was in the equation, she gave up logic and rationality and accepted things just the way they are.

"When you think along those lines, God is simply a symbolic and specific expression of higher or archetypal states of consciousness. When that state is expressed or incarnates through us, we become capable of grand and extraordinary accomplishments."

"Are you saying God is a superhero?" They both shared a laugh. They had never found the importance to discuss their religious afflictions. She felt there was something different about the way the call had progressed. She knew that both of them were looking at the moon for the past one hour while they spoke and she felt strangely connected to him. There was something melancholic about the physical distance between them and something terribly romantic about the closeness they shared when they spoke. It was emotionally overwhelming.

During the entire length of the conversation, he had had some music playing in this apartment. When she had enquired, he said, "That's Barry White." When there was no response from her, he had exclaimed "You don't know who Barry White is?"

She had simply rolled her eyes. He raised the volume of the music player a little and they danced to the song - Can't get enough of your love. Between the two, he knew how important the night was for her. In his experience, it was those first nights that would have made all the difference in people's lives. Giving into a vice or a physical pain was not for physical gratification nor was it a compensation for the short comings of the circumstances or other people; it was a bitter surrender to one's morality. And on that night, he didn't want her to taste that loneliness and that urge to give in to that insane thought which on any given day she would have completely abhorred and become enslaved for a really long time.

After that the conversation had shifted to lighter topics where she admitted her latest phobia of imagining that the germs were trying to get her and he talked about his newest fixation of chocolate mousse. He told her stories that his mom had told him while growing up and when he helped her in kitchen. She gave a profile of everyone with whom she worked. In that conversation, there were lengthy pauses, laughter, latest insecurities and their hope for a better society. When she caught first sliver of light in the sky, she was astonished to see that they had talked all through the night. When he realized that he had an early shift that day, there were rushed good byes and unspoken endearments as they ended their call.

When she arrived at the hospital a few hours later, a nurse handed her a package that had arrived for her. It was a CD, his collection of songs by Barry White. Inside that CD, there was a small card that probably fit in her palm. The front of the card was painted in inky blue with a large moon painted in yellow in left top corner with yellow colored stars splattered all over the card. The words inside that card made her smile. Inside the card were words ' "Light switch is only one phone call away."

Present day:

She had realized that it was only a matter of time when one has to adapt to a new environment. Though she was all for Darwin's theory, she often wondered if society had become so cruel that Darwinian theories often fell flat on their noses. For the first time in five years, she could not meet him during winter. The disappointment had washed over as if she was doused in a tank of ice cold water. She had thought that the life after college had begun and things were getting settled pretty smoothly. But what she didn't count on was that once life begins, there was only one thing that could happen further: complication.

(To be continued)

--o00o--

Sookie

Author's Notes: It has been exactly four months since I have posted something new in this series. This series as I have mentioned before is extremely dear to me. Its not something I toy with or experiment with. So please pardon me for this delay.

I personally liked this chapter. Maybe because I can understand the complexities of what she feels and the simplicity of his actions. I don't know. But it would be one chapter which I would read in this series repeatedly.

Thanks NJ for referring me this poem. I am not sure what your intention with the poem was and I hope that I met you half way.

Enjoy the story!

Chapter 6: The Dream Pang

Present day:

There is this one time, one day in everyone's life where things simply don't make any sense. A kind of limbo sets in and there is this tiny feeling crawling on the spine where it keeps on giving this flashes of forgotten images, missing words and an old dream dreamed under a tree.

Four years ago:

It had been a really odd day. She had that feeling when she got up in a mess of sheets, sweat and a pounding headache. Even though insomnia was something that she had gotten used to over the past couple of years, it still unsettled her when her eyes were wide awake and mind bright and active when her part of the world was sound asleep. On one such night on a whim she had gotten out, with a digital camera in hand and had taken picture of her city during the dark. The same paths that she took in the morning had looked sinister in the night and the park to which she escaped to during hectic days had never looked more welcoming as it did in the moonlight. Muskaan had admonished her giving her an earache when she saw one of her bedroom walls covered in purple tinted photos. She had to give that habit up since Muskaan had blackmailed to tell on her. After that the routine had returned to tossing, turning, drinking water, semi-sleepy state and finally waking into blaring alarm just when she wanted to give in to that inviting state of unconsciousness. That day was no different yet she felt an unfamiliar buzz around her and her vision had a hazy tint around the edges; as if it was a photo developed from a film older than half a decade. She had ignored all that and made way to get ready for yet another hectic day at the hospital.

The first, attack, of sorts had happened around her first break. Her usual strong and fast stride reduced to one of casual and ease during her break. She was sending an email via phone to a college friend when words had started bombarding inside her head. They distracted her enough to make her forget who she was and where she was and even what she was doing. But in the very next moment, the sudden gushing feeling of words flowing from some hidden crevice of her brain started floating all around her head hazing her vision and momentary made her deaf. She took out her prescription pad and started writing knowing that by doing so, there would be a sweet release.

I felt a spark leave my fingers as soon as I started writing down the words which had just started to swirl through my head. I chased that spark amidst swarming bodies, under the rocks and all around the place but never really did find it hiding anywhere. Was it because this midday autumn breeze has already bought it for you? The spark that left my fingers found me once again but it had turned into a full blown flame and the only thing that I can do now is to get engulfed in the blazing flame and allow myself a sweet and hot surrender.

Or was that you whispering in the wind that ignited my spark in the first place?

Here she was standing in the middle of the hallway of a reputed hospital without a care for anything or anyone in the world except for the words swimming in her mind which probably wouldn't have left her alone if she hadn't penned them down.

It was the first time ever it had happened to her. The way the words had come out and in a way it had signified her current perpetual inescapable intellectual loneliness experienced because of a single person that she had been feeling yet not accepting at the same time. Singularity rarely existed in this universe but in her case, it was defining a part of her existence itself. Him.

She gave up eating lunch and wandered the hallways like a ghost that haunted the hospital. She smiled, nodded, made small talk, mussed hair of a little boy, pinched pink cheeks of a little girl and she felt as if someone was there with her; guiding her across spilled water, making her stop to chat with a young lady of her age who had just delivered a baby girl and generally giving a silent and invisible companionship. The feeling of enveloped in a hug with warmth seeping in from all directions with a woodsy smell made her remember an autumn day she spent walking in an unknown town with him. She found that she loved that feeling of being surrounded by his essence and she also realized that the acceptance of that fact didn't unnerve at all. The realization was a long time coming. She wiped an errant tear and decided to pick a cup of coffee.

It was then her trembling fingers shook and coffee spilled out of the cup. Pantry was deserted with most people already back to work after lunch and few interns gulping down whatever they could get their hands on. She took few tissues out from the container, smiled an apology to the barista and wiped the smooth black counter. That's when the words stuck for the second time. As the feeling of words tumbling became faster and heavier, she gave up wiping, snatched few tissues and borrowed a pen from the now perplexed barista. She thanked her with a smile and hurried to a table by the window.

Black marble stares me back with a million eyes, grime glaring and droplets of water shimmering; I ran a damp tissue on the marble only to hear it squeak and moan in agony of being devoid of anything tangible strangely reflecting the state of my heart. The marble was my distant mirror; frustration a constant companion.

She started at the words that were just penned down. A calming breeze fluttered the delicate tissue which made her scamper away from the window. The possessiveness that she felt over the words written on a whim startled her. She was a person who was detached from her own mind and here she was defending the fluttering tissue from the evil breeze which tried to take it away from her. She chuckled at the lame metaphor. She had gently pocketed the tissue and made her way back to bright and busy hallways. Dissection of her feelings was now pushed back into her mind as priority of her role took over governance. She wasn't anyway close in accepting what she was going thorough but she decided to go with it and see where this foreign feeling took her.

As a young girl, she was a child of discipline. Like everything had a time and place, even her emotions were compartmentalized in her mind bringing them out only when she thought they were necessary. This had helped her to achieve a level of detachment when it came to patients and made her take tough but logical decisions. But the day being the way it was, had messed up the compartments which were neatly labeled and organized in her head and it had managed to break the decoupling that existed between her emotions and rationality. While on an ordinary day she ignored any interactions between a patient and their loved ones, on that day she couldn't get over the scene of a young man feeding grapes to his girlfriend. Most people around her were ignoring the scene but her eyes were zeroed down in the way the girl's lips were moving. And there it was; the warmth, the buzz, the chill, rushing of blood to ears causing momentary deafness and this time her hand acted on its own accord even before her mind dictated any actions. She took first available paper in her hands which happened to be blood report and started scribbling the words.

A drop of liquid squirted out of the fruit and got stuck to the lip like a clingy girlfriend. The plump of lips succinctly held the grape amidst them the drop if liquid still being as clingy as ever, had held a cigarette last night in same adoring fashion. The emitted smoke had formed a thin veil of mask hiding the plumpness and the beauty of the lips which was now moving around the fruit in a sensual manner.

Can an object hold such a power as to make a stark distinction between sensually good and sinfully good?

She had given up trying to analyze her actions, her words or even her state of mind. It didn't really matter in the end. She thought if she told Muskaan that she had been having a weird day then probably she might get some help. But how could she explain her friend what she was going through when she herself didn't understand a thing about it? She sat on the stairs of fire exit and thought about possible reasons which would have led to the words pouring out of her mind. After an hour of speculating, her mind draw blank. There were no reasons, no explanations, no theories nor any tangible evidence for the restlessness that she was feeling since she woke up. The dream like state that her mind had imbibed into had left her reeling with confusion. It shook her concentration, messed with reality and planted a permanent tear at the corner of her eye.

She shook her head and got on with work trying to drown herself in surgery so that the concentration that she prided on stopped her feeling from overwhelmingly vulnerable.

Two surgeries and rounds of general ward later she found herself standing in cafeteria for her evening cup of cappuccino before finishing paperwork and calling it a day. The day had been oddly different bringing down a plethora of emotions in sudden bursts but eventually she didn't really mind it. There were many things that were brought to her realization which knowing her would have taken more time unless someone spelled it for her. She stared at the window looking at the setting sun, mild heat flushing her cheeks and humming an old melody. She saw an image which was hazy on the edges as if it was taken years ago and had never found sunlight for decades. The picture bought a thousand words in her mind and she decided to write down a few. She snatched a pamphlet that was lying on the table and started to write.

Heat envelopes me in waves and I hear a distant cry of a wild bird which I cannot name. Window hangs like a painting with constantly changing pictures; children playing, mothers laughing, old men walking, young lovers basking in the sun. Heat permeated through the glass and continued to hit me in gentle blasts making tiny beads of perspiration appear and flow down in rivulets starting from base of my neck and running through my back. A whisper breaks the mute communication which I have been having with the horizon and the suddenness in which it happens sends a tiny shiver through my spine which vibrates that bead of sweat. I look around to see a residue of an old dream managing to haunt me on this particularly warm autumn afternoon, making me tremble for the lost time.

Once she finished writing, she ran her fingers gently over the glossy surface over the words as if she was caressing a new born. In her mind, it was exactly that. On that day something was born in her and from her. It was made of lost time, dimple smiles, the buzz she had felt all day, woodsy smelling perfume, warmth of a hug, words from her mind, ripples of a dream, moonlight escaped during a new moon and all the hopes that she had for her future.

And it was also then she realized that these words didn't belong to her. It was never hers. And it was never going to. Instead of bringing tears, this recognition of actions brought an honest smile on her face. She pocketed the pamphlet, threw a last look out of the window, bode a silent good bye to the setting sun and walked out to her work place.

Three weeks later:

She had lived through a state of mind where consciousness often got mixed up with dream state and made her confuse with her reality. Instead of fighting it, arguing it and bargaining, she had surrendered herself into that state of mind and had had epiphanies which she would remember for a very long time. Muskaan, as she had expected, had asked her if she had inhaled any illegal substance while working in pathology. She had looked scandalized at her friend's accusation but her rational mind argued that it was a definite possibility. But she was surprised that she herself didn't want to believe that the whole experience was something drug induced. And she knew that it wasn't. After she had come home, she had gathered four different types of paper which she had used to pen down her words, put them in a plastic box and shipped it to Armaan. Those words didn't mean anything to her unless he read them and demanded that they were his. She wouldn't even put up a fight and would give him what truly belonged to him. She had written very briefly what she had felt that day; confusion, distress, restlessness, feeling of clamping of throat, heaviness in heart, everything. There were no replies from him and she honestly didn't expect one. They rarely acknowledge anything that the other sent. Neither decided any rule but somehow both followed similar ones.

She had an hour left of her shift and it was already getting dark. That day she covering for her friend and it had ended up being a double shift for her. Her feet were aching and all she wanted was to get home, soak in tub and get some sleep. And just when she was about to leave, her phone rang. Without looking at the caller information, she muttered a distracted hello.

"Where are you?" Never did they exchange any hellos or a how are you. Never the less the voice bought a smile on her face.

"About to leave hospital. What about you?" She came to the point directly.

"I am at the park near your hospital waiting for you. Come." The call ended there. It wasn't an order or a demand on the phone but a plea. It wasn't a request but an urge and a desire which he had temporarily surrendered himself into. She knew him enough to deduce that much and she knew that she wasn't wrong. He never told her where he would be in that vast park but knowing him she knew exactly where he would be. He knew that she would find him.

She found him lying on his back under a tree whose canopy offered a myriad of colors. The tree had spread a blanket of dried leaves now buried under his body. He was staring at the sky and rustling of the leaves around him brought a smile on his face. She dropped on the ground next to him and laid her head on his shoulders and trying to see the same single point that his eyes were concentrating on. He had looked like a lonely leaf amidst the shed leaves on that autumn evening. But when she joined him, they looked like two dried leaves that had ended their long run at a single moment. Singularity. She wondered why the word spun in her mind as much as it did. His woodsy perfume lulled her into a serenity that she had lost or was that something she never had? Depression, restlessness and unfathomable feeling of losing in oblivion had come to an end when she let her body relax next to his. When he gently took her in his embrace, she exhaled and closed her eyes. There was nothing romantic in that embrace. It was one fallen leaf consoling the other at the loss of big picture. The embrace held a promise of a possibility of being part of the same tree during spring and celebrating yet another life together.

In that embrace, Armaan had promised Riddhima exactly that.

They didn't talk for the rest of the evening.

The exhaustion that she had felt during her shift at hospital hit her full force when she came home after seeing off Armaan. She was surprised for this visit from him giving the time schedule that he had had. She did ask him that when they were walking back towards bus station.

"I received your package. I read, read and re-read. After that I had to see you and tell you that those words were mine. Not yours, not ours but mine. Do you understand that Riddhima?" He had questioned her.

"That's why I sent you in first place." She had softly responded. It wasn't her style to see things in a wooly way where things like this happened. She questioned, rationalized, analyzed, experimented, theorized and then evaluated the results. Presumption was never in her nature and here was a case which could predict the outcome of her life, her sanity and her intellectual existence, and here she was playing word games and surrendering herself into insane world of random images, pretty words and heartbreaking feelings. And it scared her to realize that she was completely OK with that.

"Armaan, what is happening" She had asked seemingly lost twisting her fingers in her palm. He had slowly disentangled the fingers from one another and held her hand in his.

"We, are happening Riddhima."

He left her when the first star by the moon started to shine much brightly. Her steps were light and her gait casual when she walked back home. She decided to read the forensic book that she had been meaning to read for a while now.

The alienation that she had felt for the past few weeks had left her completely. When she reached home, she looked at the now much thumbed poetry book and caressed the first page which bore her name in his neat scrawl. She opened the poem that she was looking for and scoffed at his commentary. He had made it obvious in the comments that he had loved "The Dream Pang". Three weeks ago, perhaps, she would have agreed to everything that was written in the margin of the poem. It was then it stuck her meaning behind his sudden appearance.

In his dream he had seen her and couldn't really get to her. Her words had brought out the anxiety of separation, the alienation that both of them faced with themselves and with their friends, the loneliness that they felt amidst the groups and all these had manifested her into something unattainable and almost non-existent. He had come to see her to make sure that she still was what she was.

He had come to meet her for both her sake and his.

It wasn't an act of sympathy or pity. It was a desperate act for both their survival. And that solo thought made her immensely happy.

Present day:

During winter break they didn't speak anything. There were too many things yet there were nothing. He told her about his dream and she treasured it as her own. She spoke about her insecurities for the first time and he simply listened. Their problems had no solutions except for the fact that they had to ride them out. Neither offered sympathy nor their shoulders. They just listened to each other and drove around their town for hours.Life was going to get much weirder.

(To be continued)

--o00o--

Sookie

Author's Notes: Three poems here: Lockless door, Fire and Ice, Love and a question. I personally liked this chapter for the abstraction it offers.

Enjoy the story!

Chapter 7: The lockless door

Present Day

After meeting him she had stopped quoting and believing that face was the index of the mind. It wasn't something that was a realization waiting to happen.

Three years ago:

She didn't have a choice but to follow Muskaan like a lost puppy. She had had plans for the long weekend and none of them had entailed her leaving the apartment except in case of emergency; like running out of chips and dip. But Muskaan was dragging her to their hometown for their old classmate's engagement party. She had not even sent an RSVP but Muskaan knowing her very well had done it on her behalf. She cursed at her friend's insight but the very next moment thought that if it weren't for Muskaan then she might probably die of isolation. She shook her head and followed her friend around the now filled party hall. They had lot of common friends but she rarely kept contact with them. Her job demanded her constant attention and she had always prioritized her work above her personal life and she was seeing the repercussions of that decision biting back. Many of her friends were married, had kids and changed careers. A lifetime, she mused. Entire lifetime had passed by for few people and she felt that she was stuck in some time warp. Kids with whom she had traded mud pies with had kids of their own. She took in the ambience with wide eyes and open mouth. A twinge of guilt however made its way from base of her stomach. If only I hadn't declined those invites, she thought. But she was not the one who regretted decision nor was she one of those who lived in perpetual confusion of making choices in their careers and personal lives. Many of her friends had often told her about the conflicts that their lives presented. She had given them the same advice which she followed ' make a decision and take responsibility for it. Of course not many understood her and fewer followed it, but for her, it had worked very well till now. She shook her head to shake of all the thoughts that were already going astray and tried to blend in the crowd. She felt at odds when she was thrown amidst a nice blend of strangers and acquaintances. She generally let her mind wander and observe things below the surface of conversations on weather, stock market or politics. Many reflected their lifestyle in the words and topics they chose while many tried to hide. It tickled her to see their charade cracking in places and then their struggle to patch up the cracks and paint them afresh. In a world which recognizes faces masked with false sense of familiarity, they were all only trying to perfect their faades to fit in better. Not that she blamed them for it, but she wondered if that's all was left in people; masks, makeup and facades.

She was sipping champagne and talking to an old classmate whom she could not place when her eyes fell on the group where boisterous laughter was erupting from. Everyone seemed to be having a good time and she felt that somehow she didn't fit in amidst that her old friends. There were too many memories made with people around her yet she could not cling on to any one of them. Memories like old lovers bring both tears and smile at the same time. It was then when her mind automatically isolated one voice in the group which had managed to soothe her during sleepless nights. For a moment, her heart stopped and restarted. The last time she saw him amidst people was in her high school corridor. He was standing amongst their friends with a champagne flute teasing a girl next to him and smiling all the way. He looked very young and very happy and it was a face and emotion that she couldn't recognize. All the times they had met face to face had involved some sort of emotional turmoil on either party and generally they were alone when they met. Their winter drive was very private affair and they had spent couple of them without talking a word. But between these people, he had morphed into a socialite stranger. She slinked back into the shadows and watched him. She had to observe and learn before she could confront the man who was throwing a lot of men off their game and charming the hell out of other women. It wasn't the jealousy that she felt at that moment. It was more in the line of a woman watching a man in the most primal way. He was the epitome of passion, she came off as indifferent. She remembered the lines written on the margin of a book her subject of observation had given her more than half a decade ago. "Fire and Ice", she thought. He was the one who braved and embraced social life while she withdrew from crowds and preferred a highly private and secluded life. It was in that moment it struck her how different they were. While she trudged her way across the room in shadows of her friend and taking shelter behind huge columns and bulky waiters, he slid smoothly into groups and took over the conversation like a storm. Truly fire and ice, she noted. Back in school, he followed a plethora of starry eyed younglings tailing him as he walked around the campus. In his spare time he spent outside spending time under the sun while she sought out the coolness of the school's library. On one such warm day she had chanced upon to look out the window and she had seen him sitting on the lawn, face up the sky. He was soaking in the warmth with a reverence of offering a prayer to the Sun. That image of him was permanently printed in her mind and even to this date she could taste the sunlight and feel the warmth in her fingertips. It brought a smile to her face when she realized how rest of the poetry went. She wondered what would have happened if they hadn't met at all. It was a coincidence that they had ended up in detention at the same time on that day. Maybe their world would have ended or they would have been consumed in their own strengths and weaknesses thus losing whatever they were capable of. Their capability was not in terms of power or achievement but of relational harmony. Of course in the worse scenario, their lives would have never begun. She shook her head and continued to stare at the man who was now talking to a beautiful young lady. She had never given a thought to his appearance or his movements before. Most of the time they were consumed in something much more primal and fundamental to both of them or during winter drive, she would be busy staring out of the window of the car he drove and talked non-stop. Slinking further into shadows and finally moving out of the building completely, she wondered how she would feel if she was standing right next to him in that party.

It disappointed her to find out she had absolutely no idea at all.

She wandered of towards back of the building which hosted a secluded park and found her a bench to sit. Cool breeze of late autumn, blinding colors and a decade of memories spent with her friends in her home town hit her hard. The melancholia of memories was never lost on her and she rarely succumbed to its lure. However, being in her hometown and being amidst the season where it all began had made her head swirl with myriad of emotions that she could not classify fast enough.

"Tell me what you are thinking." A voice said behind her. She didn't need to turn around to find out who it was nor ask a question in return or even say a hello. They never greeted each other anyway. She idly mused why. When he called, he just jumped to the point. When they met, he hugged her or nod at her.

"Love and a question", she replied not turning back to look at him. She knew that they would be here for a while and it would be moments before he would come and sit next to her. It wasn't his prerogative to stand or sit in front of her while they talked, unless they were in a restaurant, of course. He always sat next to her, shoulder to shoulder. She never felt it odd but on the contrary, she felt connected.

"One of the most complex poems of Frost and the one for which my interpretation has changed over the years", he replied. He came and sat next to her as if it was the most natural thing in the world. In his world, it was. She turned to look at him, her eyes curious. She understood why he would say that because she had felt the same. Sometimes poetry grew with people too. Her pre-adolescent mind had interpreted the poem which she currently deemed juvenile. And in his case it seemed similar. Maybe that's why he had left the margins of that poem intentionally blank. After these many years, she knew he was intelligent. But now she realized that he was wise beyond his years even when was in his late teens.

"I agree. Years ago when I first read it I thought it was just a simple story. But during course of time, the poem strangely reflected my state of mind and by now, I think I have at least half a dozen explanations for it." She responded.

"Why are you remembering this poem now?" He was genuinely curious. She didn't reply immediately. She had to gather her thoughts before she delved into a conversation which could easily turn awkward if she chose incorrect words. He had slept in her arms, cried, laughed and hugged her like a little boy. In every situation they met, they had performed a role which the circumstance decided. During winter breaks they were purely old friends and in the odd meetings that took place between them by design, were driven by their primal need to satisfy an emotional requirement which would otherwise leave them insane. They sought each other for the sake of their sanity and survival.

"I saw you inside", she answered. It was such a simple statement yet the implications of her words were not lost on him.

"Does it bother you that outside our own personal microcosm, I am a complete stranger to you?"

"It shouldn't."

"But it does."

"Yes. It does." She fell quiet after that. She could not verbalize whatever she was feeling and it was mildly annoying her. She opened and closed her mouth few times before starting flexing her fingers which was something she did as a nervous tick.

"I can sit here as long as you want. Take your time and tell me what you are thinking." It wasn't an order nor was it a request. It was a gentle plea. She wondered if she were to analyze the same poem in this moment, she would probably come up with a totally different result. No matter how well we think we have understood the situation or even a person, a new perception is always around the corner. It's always a matter of time. She knew that there would be a time one day when she had to face him in public. They had many friends in common and lately she had been remembering about the deadline that he had set for them back in school. Technically, this was bound to happen and she had to face the situation. It was ironic that she faced this situation where it all started.

"It's a conflict between what you are and what you are to me."

"Are they different?" He raised an eyebrow at this. The girl sitting next to him was pretty forthright and most of the people he talked to had put in a few good words about her. Few men had also seen her with an appreciative glance which had amused him since those were the very same people who were worried about peer groups back in school. He had seen her staring at him in passing and in that stare there was no hesitation nor was there anything beyond primal curiosity. If he had cornered her and asked her of her intentions, she would perhaps give him a truthful answer in a blunt way. He wondered why he didn't do so in the first place. The answer came to him from a sigh next to him. Being with her was a different experience altogether. It wasn't about companionship or the freeness that he felt with her. It was the nothingness, the feeling of free falling which came with her company, enticed him and lured him further and further away from the mundane and the mediocre.

With her, he was what he wanted to be.

"It is like getting caught between social responsibility and duty of a family member. There are no concrete proofs which would state which is bigger or important than which. The conclusion or decision is solely dependent on the person who would make that choice. This choice is never easy and it always comes with a heavy price because there is always one party which is disappointed with lack of support."

"What about a compromise between the two?"

"Compromises are like stalemates. No one is happy and there is no concrete solution as the resolution is always temporary. Only the person has escaped making a choice."

"And sacrifices?"

"You are joking, yes?"

"I am not."

"Sacrifices. I am not fond of them."

"Why is that?" He was not very surprised by her answer.

"The concept of one person giving away something which mattered to them for the sake of others' when they themselves want it, only shows the lack respect and love the person has for himself or herself."

"Isn't it selfish not to share?"

"Don't they have any self-respect to look after themselves?" She paused for a moment and continued.

"There are a hundred scenarios which might prove your statement correct and few hundred more to prove mine. But this is what I believe in."

"We are not talking about the poem anymore, are we?"

"No, we are not." She shook her head and fell silent. She continued after a few moments. Maybe she hid a little too much behind the allegory she thought the poem offered. It was time to face the real deal.

"Over the years, I am accustomed to a part of you and your personality. There is an image of you built in my mind as a result of all the conversations, meetings and everything that subsists between us. And there is this part of you which I know that it exists but never really acknowledged it because I never felt the need to identify myself with. That is the stranger on my porch." She added as an after thought.

"Do you feel the need to understand that part of me now?"

"I don't know if I want to understand it because I am curious or because I feel excluded from a certain aspect of your life."

They fell silent for handful of moments, both lost in their thoughts and perceptions. This is how far they had come, she noted; a fellow comrade in discovering oneself.

"A Lockless door", he said smiling at her. She outright laughed at him. An eye for an eye, a poem for a poem, she thought. She was mildly surprised at his choice but was somewhat eager to hear his line of reasoning. She had noted that their allegories differed a great deal and sometimes altogether ended on a different tangent but they somehow came back to the fundamentals of their being. When she saw the ambiguity in this situation, he had seen an opportunity. Opposite natures were truly a matter of perception; nothing more, nothing less.

"The day I talked to you in detention was the day when I opened a cage that was subconsciously built around me over the years and on that day I made a decision to get out of it. After that, I did it every time I was with you. In the beginning it was a conscious effort on my part to be honest with whatever I was doing and to do things the way the situation drove me to do so. I didn't give a thought to logic or rationality but threw myself into the situation and surrendered myself to it. Over the years I associated the essence of being free from oneself to you. Now, it's the most natural reaction to me in the world. Being with you is that easy. Amongst people, it's much easier to hide my true emotions and my perception and I do it by being in that world; in their world. Sometimes the best way to hide something is by being open about it. People are blind to things that are right in front of their eyes and they search for things which they don't see all through their lives." He stopped for few moments to catch his breath and get a grip on the train of thought before he digressed into something that she wasn't ready to hear or accept yet. He broke the silence with a whispered confession.

"But how can I hide anything from you when I know that you see me like the way I want you to see me?" She stared at him openly. This was the most unusual confession coming from a man who never bore a mask of signature brooding soul amidst civilization. But here in the deserted park, he was the man whom she knew for many years and he had managed to shed the skin he wore back in the party in a very short notice.

It took her a moment to realize that she was the reason for his transfiguration from one state of mind to another. It scared her to know that she had such a power to do so with another human being. She replied.

"There are many reasons for the choices that I have made and many for those which I didn't. Liberation from one's one state of confusion and conflicts is possible when ideology itself manifests as a companion of sorts. And when this person, which is you in this case, offers a taste of a liberating thought, it is almost impossible to go back to the original state of mind because too drastic of a paradigm shift would have occurred. I cannot lock my mind to an ideology which I idolize. And if I did somehow manage to refuse to accept this change, then I would grow older albeit none the wiser." She exhaled. She wasn't seeking answers yet she found solace in his words. She realized that if she did get answers, they would be redundant in few years anyway thus making the whole point moot. It was better to accept the things they are when it came to him because that's all it was to him. With her, his face reflected what his mind dictated. It thrilled her to know that. She sincerely hoped even she was the same.

Talking to him sure drained her of her energy yet she felt invigorated. He had taken her hand in his once she had finished with her answer and held it till it was time to leave. They didn't speak for the rest of the night.

Present day:

The drive which they took in that winter break was a short one. He told her stories about his patients while she talked about her friends and family. He bought her cotton candy and made fun of her when she complained of sticky fingers. Their interaction had taken a turn from being intense to soft. His journal that year had come very well in advance as he had accommodated time for his travel plans. In that journal she had found a picture of them taken by a rogue photographer when they had ushered back into the building. She never asked him how he had managed to score that picture but she was glad all the same.

She noted that it was early evening and she had to get ready for the evening frivolities. She had a feeling she was going to be very late as she eyed the journals from last two years.

Author's Notes: The poem here is not well known work of Robert Frost. But it couldn't have been more fitting for the chapter. Please note that the ideology in this chapter is mere abstraction of stray idyllic thoughts and isn't meant to prove or disprove any philosophy or ideology.

Recap: Armaan and Riddhima meet in detention. He presents her with a book of poetry by Frost. He sends her a journal every birthday and they meet every winter to go on a drive. Fate intervenes and allows them to meet on odd occasions - some not so happy and some emotionally challenging.

Chapter 8:

For Once, Then, Something

Present Day:

She had never realized that even though she was already in her mid twenties she had a streak if innocence left. It was more of a naivety which had come at the cost of an experience involving her best and only friend - Muskaan. It wasn't a happy experience and along with Muskaan she had gone through an emotional roller coaster ride with jumbled emotions, social pressure and distorted sense of security.

Two years ago:

Muskaan's decision had come as a surprise to everyone. Muskaan had decided to move in with her boyfriend and had not bothered to explain to her parents that the man in her house wasn't her flat mate but her domestic partner. Her mother had cried behind the veil and her father had hung up phone and never picked up later. The big friend circle had reduced to handful when Muskaan announced after six months that she was now a soon to be mom. For Riddhima, the social status of Muskaan didn't matter and had still hung around with her. When she first heard the whispers in locker room from younger interns, she had banged the door loudly and had glared at the young girls. It had annoyed her. Why did people talk about others when it didn't help them in any way? She didn't understand it. Whatever Muskaan did, she had decided it along with her boyfriend and took complete responsibility for her actions. Wasn't being responsible enough? She had asked Muskaan and her partner once. It was then Muskaan had told her that the way she saw the world had always been in black and white where as in reality the whole world was tainted in grey. Innocence was not about fairytales and happily ever-after. It was a clear cut fundamental belief that ' if one is right in their actions, then one is moral. Her belief however flawed had brought her till here.

The blow had come when Riddhima, the ever reserved person and rarely spoke raised her voice and had given a verbal thrashing in an icy tone in cafeteria to a woman who openly ridiculed Muskaan. After the incident people in the hospital had shown veritable hostility towards her. She did not understand the reason behind peoples' way of treating her because of her beliefs. What she believed in did not in any way interfere with the smartness she required to perform her duties as a doctor. But it was evident that her intelligence and the way she worked were repeatedly questioned because she personally didn't find anything wrong in the way Muskaan led her life. She had noted that Muskaan was slowly falling apart as the pressure was getting her. She had never associated the word "depressed" with Muskaan. She just wasn't that type of girl. She had attributed many of the adventures in her life to Muskaan because had she not given that final shove or a kick, she would never have taken the plunge. Still there was something stopping her from telling Muskaan about Armaan. It wasn't about being secretive or hiding it because she didn't want to be teased; it was an odd combination of possessiveness and sense of taking refuge when things didn't go in her way. The possessiveness came from the fact that he always went to her whenever he found himself in a situation which he thought would drive him insane. She always brought him back to normalcy by providing the comfort and rationality he would then require. She liked being that person in his life and had he asked her, she would openly say that he was someone like that in her life too.

There were times when calling breeze would make her halt her actions and pay attention to the sound. Melancholy would hit her then and she would stop whatever she was up to and curl in a chair next to window and observe the world outside. Loneliness had always been her companion and she didn't blame herself or her attitude for that. She always remembered Armaan's words and occupied herself in preparing a meal. And during which she sometimes would even call Armaan and tell him a silly joke. The companionship would last as much as the time permitted and after hanging up their lives would never have the dullness it did moments ago.

She helped as much as she could to deal with Muskaan's situation. It had been almost four months since she last spoke to Armaan properly and she felt a sense of loss of companionship. She was a person who led her life quietly and what most people called lonely but she called as private and for past few months there were too many things she was doing and too many new emotions she was experiences she was discovering. She had blankly looked at Muskaan when Muskaan in her pregnant hormonal rant had called Riddhima an emotionally vacant person. A few hours later a teary Muskaan had apologized to her but she was still reeling from the words that were thrown at her. It was something that had been bothering her for a while. There were odd whispers about the way she dealt with things around the hospital. A senior colleague had honestly asked her if she was this emotionally distant since she was a child or was it something she newly acquired. She had stared at the man for few moments, stuttered a meek reply and had turned away with glistening eyes. The man had summed her up as a cold hearted woman to whom nothing stirred an emotional response. It was surprising that it was one of the things she rarely gave a thought about. But of late she had realized that there was at least one time that each person in her friends circle had made a comment about her being emotionally distant. Muskaan for her credit was in a state which can be easily excused but Riddhima could not deny the fact that even in that state, Muskaan's words were heartfelt though it wasn't meant to come out harshly. All the rationality and logical reasoning had flown out of the window and she had locked herself in toilet and reexamined all her actions for past few months. When she failed to derive an ordered conclusion, she knew what to do.

She waited for five hours. She sat in waiting room for external patients, settled her bag by her feet and read a book. The receptionist had told her that Armaan was in a surgery and would take few hours before he could come and meet her. She had nodded in understanding and had requested to leave him a message. When the receptionist asked her if she was going to come back again, Riddhima had shook her head.

"I will wait till he comes." She had replied and sat at the end of waiting room and waited for him to get free from work. She was away from home deciding on meeting him and talking to him before her own thoughts consumed her. She didn't know what had changed but she had started seeing changes all around her; the way people interacted with her, the way things were discussed and the things people said to her. It had first confused her, made her question her own sense of right and wrong, even went as far as portray her something she didn't think she was. In the end her thought process had gone haywire and every argument she had in her head had crumbled like dominos. It was then she knew that she had to talk to him.

It was because with him she would be herself again.

It was because with him, the world became black and white.

It was because with him, she would live again.

It was late in evening and almost six hours since she was waiting for him. She had smiled when he automatically searched seats near windows when receptionist told him that there was someone waiting for him for quarter of a day. They both knew that when time came, they would wait for days if talking to other person was deemed important. But they would never break the commitment they would be in ' like leaving surgery in middle or walking out of a meeting because the other was waiting. It didn't work with them that way.

Once their eyes met, they both broke into smile and as she walked towards him the continuous hammering in her head had already reduced to half.

"I have taken the rest of the day off. Let's go." He guided her outside the hospital. She allowed him to walk with her hand in hand; the gesture had no deep romantic meaning. He was leading her into a city unknown to her and was silently offering his strength for the onslaught of emotions she was going to unveil.

Late autumn air was biting cold and she felt warmth go up her arms as her palms curled around a cup of coffee. They hadn't spoken since they left hospital and Armaan had led her to a caf tucked safely between a bookstore and a rundown building. She looked around the caf in satisfaction and when she turned to look at Armaan, she caught him staring at her. His stare has no hesitancy nor was there any reservation. It had his signature admiration for her and perhaps a bit of amusement. He wasn't a person who hid his attraction for her when the timing allowed it and though he realized that it wasn't a happy visit for her, he still couldn't help but admire the woman she had become.

After two cups of coffee, Riddhima began to speak.

"Is there anything wrong in believing that morality is in the righteousness of our actions?" She asked.

"Why do you ask?"

"Muskaan is in a live-in relationship with her boyfriend and is now pregnant. Everyone says that it is immoral to do so." She sighed.

"Do you believe that?"

"I don't."

"Why don't you?"

"It doesn't concern me. She is a fully grown adult. She made a decision and has taken complete responsibility for it. She didn't cheat, lie or did anything illegal. Her choice in the way she leads her life has nothing to do with my friendship with her. My choice in this matter is a moot point and it is not something I even want to contemplate. It is not fair." She replied and took a sip of coffee.

"Did you tell her that?" Armaan asked.

"I did tell her that her predicament did not matter to me. She called me nave and innocent." She responded.

"But that isn't what is bothering you; you're staunch on her case."

"No it's not."

"What is it?" He asked her softly. She didn't answer immediately. She glided her right hand index finger on rim of the coffee cup and delved deep in thought. After much contemplation she replied.

"How about I talk about that in the end?" She asked him. Had he asked her about it again, she probably would have told him right away. But she knew that he would not. Both respected other's request and quelled their wish to know answers.

"What is the other thing which is bothering you?" The last time he had spoken to her she was mildly distant and hesitant in the words she chose. The girl he knew wasn't the one who budgeted on words and abbreviated her answers. He hadn't questioned her much about it and allowed her to come in terms with her role in whatever she was going through as she would one day tell him if she deemed important enough. It seemed that now was the time she wanted to share with him.

"Has the world never been black and white?" She asked him after she ordered for second cup of coffee. He looked at her and checked her face for any traces of emotions which had originated question. He let out a silent sigh when he saw her signature expression of mild curiosity and passive indifference. He had no idea why she was bringing up a subject which had no concrete answer but only point of views.

"I believe that world has always been black and white. Only us people don't want to see it that way." He replied looking straight into her eyes. She was surprised.

"You really think so?"

"It is how I see it Riddhima. Few people would agree with me and many would call me a basket case. So whatever is the answer to questions like these, one is generally not wrong. But it doesn't mean that they are right either."

"I see. If this is the case then why do people talk about Muskaan's situation as if she is morally corrupt? She and her domestic partner are committed to each other and they are true to their words. Now they are being reduced to couple of debauch young people depraved of social responsibility." She replied with a pinch of annoyance.

"What do you suppose people should do then?" He asked her.

"They should stay out of personal lives of other people." She replied immediately. He nodded in understanding.

"Will that mean if I encounter a circumstance which clearly breach the fundamentals of morality on which the society resides, I cannot voice my opinion about it?"He asked her back.

"It would depend on the premise of that morality itself Armaan. A man is allowed to live and think freely. If there are no legal repercussions, then what right does one have to question his actions and deed them unfit?" She asked him. There was nothing absolute in this world, yet one always want to believe in that ideal state. A state where there is equilibrium, balance and perfection. In reality it didn't exist. The Utopian society that Riddhima believed can exist if only people changed their perspective can never exist either.

"A married man cheats on his wife with another woman. Legally, there isn't much one can do. Isn't this man's deed unfit? Or should the society ignore his actions as his own private choice and ignore?"

"How did society ended up being the moral police Armaan?"

"Someone has to; call it society, gossiping neighbors, media, cultural values et al. If no opinions exist, then there would be no society. We would be living like cavemen where everyone is living the way they want to."

"I don't think so Armaan. Freewill is a powerful principle and when that principle is imbibed in us then people would naturally be much happier. No, we will not be cavemen but a society advanced in its social ladder and exists as a single entity and not as a set of complex rules. Then, society becomes merely sum of whole; whole being the people who constitute the society itself."

"Is freewill enough?"

"A society to exist this way can exist harmoniously only when every participant contributes to the growth and advancement of the society equally; it could be people who invent new things or creative or even doing manual labor. Their individual intellectual capability though important, doesn't become the driving factor of their lives. When one depends on the other to fulfill a task for them, then the person would have come one full circle. Now we live in an imaginary shell of individuality as for even for the slightest emotional connection, we are dependent on another person. But in the society I am talking about is the one where in a person is both dependent and independent."

"I agree to the way you want to see the society Riddhima. But there is one small flaw in the entire argument." He said after repeating her words in his head. She was unnaturally talkative and they weren't even talking about themselves or something really abstract. They were talking about a future. And it thrilled him for reasons unknown to him.

"The whole argument is based on the fact that a person has freewill and he will continue to have it for the rest of his life. Not only freewill, but the sense of responsibility to the society in which he lives." He fell silent and gauged her reaction. Her eyebrows knit, she was mulling over his words. Finally she nodded her head.

"Is that the reason why you think we are the way we are?" She asked finally.

"It is possible, yes. There is never a concrete answer for the way we turned out to be Riddhima. Every possible humanitarian department comes up with the utmost logical and rational explanation but in the end it ends up having anomalies and isolated cases which never get fit in grand design. In the end everything is just a theory or a point of view. More people accepting it makes more popular and more believable. And one fine day, it becomes truth."

"You just made it up", she replied dryly.

"I did", he let out a chuckle. She didn't disappoint him ever. He was merely stretching out his argument just to see if she was sharp enough and not emotionally distraught to realize that it was intellectual bait. She hadn't taken and called off his pseudo noetic reasoning as something asinine.

"That is the most contrived reasoning I have ever heard about existence of truth. You make it sound like a commodity Armaan." She however gave him credit for being rational enough when he gave his abstract reasoning.

"There is nothing absolute in this world Riddhima. And saying this line itself is debatable; inherent contradiction." They both fell silent and watched dying traffic and people scurrying to get home clutching their coats closer to their bodies. She broke the silence after many moments of quietness.

"You never answered why you think the world is black and white because quite honestly I didn't expect a person who believed that existed." She asked him. He smiled at her. He had thought that she had let go of her earlier question.

"Here, let me give you an example to see the situation in slightly different way okay?"

"Okay."

"Consider a situation where I am happily married to a woman for a few years. And let's say that the woman is not you. After say, a decade, I meet you at work or park or coffee shop by sheer accident and we decide to keep in touch calling each other once every few weeks. These weeks turn days and days become more frequent and suddenly I realize that talking to you on a daily basis becomes essential for my existence."

"Is that possible in real life? Because this hypothetical situation sounds extremely dramatic", she asked him. He grinned and nodded at her. She shrugged in acceptance.

"It is not that I am not satisfied with the relationship with my wife; intellectual, emotional and physical aspects of relationship with my wife is extremely satisfactory. But I discover that being with you is intellectually liberating."

"What do you mean by that?" She asked him, genuinely curious.

"Exercising freewill and independence of mind with a person only on a intellectual level. Call it intellectual soul mate, if you want", he said.

"I think I will stick to calling whatever you are going to say next as intellectually liberating. Soul mate reminds me of badly written Victorian novel", she grinned at him. He chuckled.

"So I search for this feeling with another woman. We do not have any emotional or physical relationship except for what we share as two individuals who value intelligence more than anything in their lives."

"Okay, I understand so far."

"One day my wife discovers your existence in my life and says that it is infidelity."

"She is wrong."

"Why?"

"You are not being unfaithful to her. Your relationship is not tainted by your inattentiveness to details when it comes to her. I agree that you seek a sort of companionship to talk about things with me which your wife doesn't share her view."

"Isn't this something similar to having an affair?"

"In what way? All you do is talk to me and besides talking there is no other relationship between us" she asked, surprised.

"It is not about searching for the perfect physical intimacy or emotional arousal. It is about being in perfect harmony with the way two people feel, think and react. That is the affair between two minds and not people. Do you see the difference?"

"I don't." Of course she didn't. She was a woman who valued herself and her intelligence more than what she was seen as.

"Doesn't it make me immoral?" She didn't answer him but only looked at him. He realized that it drove a point back home.

"But you are not exactly cheating on your wife", she tried to salvage whatever was left of the dream. Sadly reality was crashing down fast on her.

"This is where the clear cut black and white comes to play Riddhima. Society doesn't declare anything mid way. Either a man is unfaithful or he is not. There are no middle grounds. No matter how indecisive we sound or how confused we seem like, in the end each and every human is brutally judgmental and when it comes to a moral or a principle or a value, then a person either believes or he doesn't; a person either adheres to it or he doesn't. Half way answers do not exist. Fundamentally, the world is black and white. Only the rest of the details are tainted in gray." He replied. Her long hair was draped like a veil which hid her face and separated them. He couldn't see her reaction but he knew that she was thinking about everything he had just said. For today, she might accept his answer. But one day, she would reopen this argument and might give an eye for an eye. Maybe that day he might tell her that he truly believed that she was his intellectual soul mate even if she laughed at that word.

They walked through the streets which was almost empty bar seldom passing of handful of vehicles. Riddhima had not responded after Armaan had finished speaking and was silently pondering over their words. He didn't press her for further thoughts and let her be.

"Do you think I am emotionally cold?" She asked him out of the blue. He stared at her and finally realized that this was what had triggered a series of events which had let her come to visit him on her day off.

"Did someone tell you that?"

"A few hinted, few joked and few asked me directly."

"Does that bother you?"

"It does."

"Why?" He asked.

"When people told me that, few gave me a look of pity. Friends gave me a frustrated look and few colleagues looked at me as if I needed help. I dislike all those looks", she replied blankly.

"Do you believe that you are emotionally distant?"

"I don't."

"Why does it bother when others talk about it then?"

"I feel that I am not looking at something which is evident for the whole world to see but I fail to see it in my own reflection. My reflection denies me of showing the real picture or is it that my problem lies with the eyesight itself?" She asked him. He looked at her. He was wrong when she asked the question. He thought that she had lost self confidence. It wasn't that. She had lost faith in people around her and the way they judged her because of the way she presented herself in front of them. It wasn't her fault it wasn't their fault either. That is how the world works. One had to realize this, accept it and deal with it.

He took her hands in his and slowed their gait.

"For once, Then, Something ' have you heard of it?" He asked. It wasn't a poem by Frost that people talked about a lot. But it was something he looked up to because of the reasons behind the reason for writing that poem.

"I have not. Frost again?" He nodded.

"It is said that Frost wrote this poem to rebuke his critics. He was a simplistic and fairly straightforward man and his writing was simply yet the philosophies behind them were phenomenal. You are exactly like that." That earned him a smile.

"What is it about?"

"A man is looking at his reflection in water and trying to find something. The man has always seen things superficially or so he thinks so he looks into water. He does find an image there which is deep and pure or even truth. But it's momentary and he loses that image and the man shrugs it off. The title translates to ' for once I have seen something."

"You mean to say that if I let an illusion of self and existence to rule, then it will start obscuring my rationality." She said with a hint of smile.

"Yes, that pretty much sums it up", he replied with a smile.

"Armaan, do you think I can stay in your place tonight? I have an early flight tomorrow." She rapidly changed topic. He had made his point and she would dwell on it, think about it, over analyze it and even complicate it more than necessary. But with time, she would realize what he was intending to say and finally would come in terms with what exactly was bothering her and if she truly believed that she was an emotionally handicapped person. Till then, he would wait and talk about random poetry.

"Sure, why not?" She smiled at him brilliantly and their conversation shifted to work related topics.

Present day:

She remembered talking to him for the entire night but had found herself tucked in bed early in the morning. She didn't ask him how she had ended up there and neither had he volunteered an explanation. He drove her to airport and had bid her farewell. Winter break was a short one that year as Muskaan had gone to labor a few days earlier and Armaan had visited Muskaan. It was a year where everyone's emotional barometer shot up high and patience was tested. She was very happy that Muskaan's parents had come to visit her in hospital. Though their relationship moved at a snail's pace, Muskaan had taken whatever was offered to her.

She had to wait for three weeks till she could read the journal that was couriered to her. It was one of the years where nothing drastically happened yet there seemed to be a huge shift in the way things seemed. Of course a line in his diary "two years only" had brought back a plethora of emotions and failed to leave her for months. She yelped after looking at the clock and decided to seriously start getting ready.

He was only hours away.

(To be continued)

Author's Notes: I always wanted to use this poem for last chapter. I had decided it early on but when I was writing this chapter I knew this poem had to be used here only. It's fairly straightforward poem (I think) and I have tried to give two points of view to drive home a point. The ideology here is again a thought process and is explored from two different perspectives. Traces of this are found in last chapter but here the tangent is slightly off.

Chapter 9: Revelation

Present Day:

She had surprised herself last year when she had accepted a random party invitation after being cajoled by Muskaan. Things had slowed down to her lately and she felt panic settling in her stomach whenever her gaze settled on calendar. She had always managed to convince herself by thinking that there was still time left. But as months drew closer her heart beats escalated. An unplanned meeting had revealed many things to her which was a blessing in disguise.

One year ago:

She and Muskaan had decided to drive to a town few hundred miles from where they lived to attend a party hosted by an old friend. Riddhima had given up trying to remember the person from memory and had finally resorted to old school photo albums. New mom, Muskaan, only wanted a break from her daily routine and her partner was a gem of a guy who had taken the complete responsibility of the baby and had asked her to take a drive with her friend and be with friends. After much contemplation, planning and re-planning, Muskaan had finally decided to go and had sent out her and Riddhima's RSVP. Riddhima wasn't very keen on attending the party but when she saw how excited Muskaan looked, she had shut up and agreed to the deal.

She was surprised when Muskaan told her that the party was in honor of a medal the host, their friend, had won for his achievement.

"So?" Riddhima had questioned. Muskaan had stared at her in surprise.

"It is a huge achievement Riddhima. And people want to celebrate", she had explained as if she was talking to a five year old.

"He only achieved the goal he had set for himself, which means he managed to do the duty that he is bound to do for himself. Why should he celebrate for that?" Riddhima hadn't let go. Muskaan had sighed and tried to convince the reasons why people celebrated successes.

"There is something cold and detached in every move you make", Muskaan had uttered those words as a part of her argument. Riddhima had only wondered if people were always deemed detached if they do not associate their acts to their moral integrity.

Riddhima shook hands smiled and re-introduced herself to people with who she had once shared classes with or sometimes even lunch. Her host was a nice young man who had given her a tour of his grand house and talked about how he had managed to achieve all that. She had nodded her head mutely and had sincerely congratulated him and had found herself in a corner for rest of the morning. There was something about the whole idea of celebrating success which was putting her off and she didn't know what. She took out her cell phone half a dozen times in a span of two hours wondering if she should simply make that call. It wasn't important or ground breaking but somehow she suddenly felt the need to hear that voice. Amidst new acquaintances and old friends, she missed their silence.

Her heart skipped a beat when a hand landed on her shoulder. She turned to see him smiling a wan smile and automatically she smiled back.

"Why do unplanned and unknown encounters overwhelm to the point of being giddy and completely oblivious to the world?" She asked him after a handful of moments.

"I think it is applicable only to things which are most desired", he grinned. She threw her head back and laughed. With his arrival she felt the claustrophobia surrounding her dissolving into nothingness. She didn't contemplate further on the sudden change in state of mind but just accepted it for now. She knew that once she was back in the comfort of her bed and darkness of the night in her room next day, she would dissect every feeling she felt when she first turned around and took a good look at him. Till then, she was going to accept everything that happened with her.

"Waxing poetry are we?" She replied with a smile, her laughter had left its residue all over her face.

"A bard's heart speaks truth when faced with beautiful maiden as thee", Armaan answered going with the flow. Riddhima chuckled and shook her head. An unwound Armaan was a pleasant treat. He was charming, casual and very much at ease. She wondered if she was fortunate or unfortunate for not being able to see this side of him directed towards her and only her for all these years. She had seen him emotionally broken, wired, vacant and once even helpless. But Armaan, detached from the singling melancholy which always brews underneath his persona was a totally different man. She had seen the other side of him in a party couple of years back but she had stayed away from his path and never really spoke to him at the venue. Of course they had chatted for couple of hours outside the party hall but that didn't count as a social interaction in her book. That was completely private and it was their world.

"I wasn't aware that you two actually know each other", Muskaan broke their private ambience and directed question at Riddhima and looked at Armaan. The two in question exchanged a glance. Riddhima shrugged and Armaan smiled. Muskaan spoke to Armaan which Riddhima completely ignored. At the back of her mind she knew that there would be a time when their paths would cross given the fact that they were from same small town and they had many common friends. She felt slightly awkward to be with him along with so many people and Muskaan next to her prattling away about her little girl. She didn't realize when Muskaan left and when someone else took her place, spoke to Armaan and left. He spared an eye on her and observed her aloofness and the detachment from the environment she was in. Her stance wasn't one of recluse; it was of being oneself with in one's self irrespective of where she was. She was perhaps the only person he knew who was most comfortable with herself. She needed herself more than she needed anything else; be it something as primal as identity or intelligence. She was that complex and yet so fundamentally simple. He did not hide admiration when he looked at her; the appreciative glance wasn't an acknowledgement of the beauty but one of one human admiring the existence of another. They walked around the party premises talking about random things, reminiscing school days and catching up in general. They unconsciously steered away from the private world that they shared or what one meant to other. It wasn't the place and it wasn't time for that yet. She was quiet most of the time when he spoke to others ' sometimes they stopped him and sometimes he stopped them and spoke. She took in the way he slithered through the crowed, handled people and dealt with onslaught of questions. When someone asked if they were together, her head had suddenly jolted back to reality and stared blankly at the woman who had asked the question. A moment later Armaan had smiled and asked the woman if she knew her husband played football with him back in high school. The question had stirred many things in her mind which she hadn't cared much for at the start; start of the party that is. When she was with him, she was fully with him. So she had stuck around and had gone wherever he had and it hadn't bothered either of them. At least she thought that it hadn't bothered him and if it had, he would have said something, wouldn't he? It wasn't like her to question his behavior but it wasn't like she was aware of every idiosyncrasy he sported. It was one thing to monopolize his time when they were alone but in the outside world, she wasn't so sure. It was also possible that he was here with someone else; his friends from the world she had no idea about. Suddenly she wasn't sure and the old claustrophobic sensation started closing in on her. Her restlessness was not oblivious to him; the way she shifted weight on her feet, her generally calm eyes now brewing storm and her signature expression which he could so easily need when she wanted to get away from everything. He excused himself from the conversation he was having and gently steered her away to a gazebo hidden behind rose bushes and cooler and quieter than the hullabaloo.

When she saw the destination she looked at him in surprise. She hadn't realized that he was bringing her into a small world of silence and privacy. She thanked him when he handed her a drink and allowed her to be. She collected her thoughts and everything she was going through since she had arrived. She remembered the time in morning when she was speculating to call him or not. There were things that she wanted to know and Muskaan's words still reeled fresh in her mind. Riddhima began to speak.

"Is success validation of a goal set by one self or is goal itself?" She asked him. The thought was swimming in her head since the invitation to party had arrived and having been to parties and luncheons where in people celebrated their success with their loved ones and few friends. He looked at her mild amusement. Trust her to delve right into the subject without sugar coating anything.

"What is it for you?" He asked her in return.

"Success is a byproduct of a goal which I have set for myself but not the ultimate goal itself", she responded quite frankly. He hid a smile. It was one of those moments when he wanted to pack her away into a far away island and spend the evening talking about her ideologies on the beach. Her attraction, as he realized over the years, lied in the way she presented herself ' with an outline of herself with her primal thoughts not corrupted by the social conundrums.

"And what is wrong in acknowledging that success? Isn't this acknowledgment another way of telling people that I have achieved my goal?"

"Why should the goal be acknowledged in the first place? As an individual I decide the course of action of my life and act accordingly. I set up goals to ensure that the path which I take aligns with my plan. And if I achieve that goal, am only satisfying myself and doing what I had already planned. Success isn't even a factor to be considered in grand scheme of things." She replied without much ado. Her view of things had a point blank approach and she rarely considered gray areas. It was not that she didn't believe in them, she simply didn't take them into account as she formulated thoughts.

"Riddhima, the society cannot possible operate on individualistic principles where one man exists for himself. It is the ultimate standard of value, perhaps even egoistical but one who prefers to take the path which is not much taken or make path for them. If majority of the society exhibited this trait or even exercised this as a mandate, then the equilibrium which exists between consumer and producer is lost. I am not talking about consumer and producer in terms of manufacturing but as a parallel symbol to two facets of the society."

"And you Armaan are a collectivist now? The concept behind your argument simply expects people to exhibit a standardized behavior which gives predictable results consistently and that is what maintains the balance in the society. And what is that makes a behavior standard Armaan? Answer to that lies in our own twisted version of truth. We generally call that as 'values' which happen to be the abstract entity which drives the entire social structure and lays foundation for our society and the way it is going to operate. Every product of that particular society carries his or her values imbibed and intact, all ready to take on the world. So what is that defines success in this particular society? Prize becomes a stamp of approval of the goal not to see if it is truly contributing to the society or not but to see if the person who has achieved the goal fits much better in the society he belongs to."

"Riddhima, it is not possible to say if collectivism or individualism or extremist way of thinking is the way to judge, evaluation or operate a society. Society, like a human, is continuously evolving and is changing itself with every small decision or a major blow for the betterment of lifestyle and just not economic conditions. The society which you belong is greatly different from mine; but it doesn't mean that they can't cross path and merge or clash violently. But in their own individualistic definitions, they thrive to improve the life conditions of the people in it."

They both took a sip of their drink simultaneously and shared a smile. They weren't fighting nor were they arguing to the point of winning. They were only letting the other know what was there on their mind. How the other considered it, was purely their discretion. She liked it when he tried to provide another point of view just to make her delve deeper into the argument so that a clarity was achieved by herself by talking through entire ideology rather than presenting an argument with handful of independent abstract thoughts.

She was glad that she was able to talk to him about the things that were bothering her for a while without any emotional stress associated to it. She felt she was back in high school with him talking in detention room in their first ever meeting as adults and sticking to a strange routine. It never escaped her conscious that there were less than twenty months till the fateful encounter which she knew was going to happen. It both scared and elated her. She again spoke once she collected her thoughts.

"Armaan, the grandest of contributions to the society in the form of art, literature or discovery comes in the form of individualistic achievement rather than a collective one. People who exercise their freewill and work towards goal and not its byproduct have always managed to make a mark in the society. In the end it looks as if a society tries to breed people and not individuals", she replied severely.

"I agree with this Riddhima. But now you are talking about an exclusive set of people whose freewill and determination has reshaped the society. But the underlying fact still remains ' they were those individuals who considered their existence for the welfare and provide a positive impact on the evolution and shaping of the society itself."

"And others cannot?"

"Can they really?"

"We have talked about this, have we not? Freewill is a luxury line of thought?"

"Yes Riddhima, we did. But the current line of thought is little off the tangent and much deeper. The question is not about individualism or collectivism. It is about the people and the number of people who contribute to the final outline of the abstract entity called ' values which shape the society."

"And you think individualistic existence hampers the growth of society", she wryly replied. He grinned at her.

"The example you took ' the people who contribute with their intelligence and creativity is one way to look at it. But imagine a society where major contributors are egoistical bigots having no social conscience. Had this been the case, then where is the room for normal people?"

"You are telling this because you believe that society can be neatly built by 'good people' who are the only ones who can warranty a social solidarity. Is it not? They are the same set of people whose main intent is to maintain an equilibrium where technology competes with culture and modernization of thoughts gets tries to reason with values", she huffed. Her expression was unreadable and he wondered if she was reciprocating an old feud with someone else on to him. He didn't respond to her immediately. He waited for her to catch her breath, collect thoughts and rebound with another verbal arrow.

"Armaan, when we celebrate success, what exactly are we celebrating? The person's achievement or contribution to the society or how well has his success influenced the society itself? Or the worse of all ' a motivating factor for others or for the person to achieve something bigger and better?" Riddhima asked looking at the sky. She liked vastness in whichever form it was offered to her; landscapes, oceans, skies et al. Armaan looked at her in surprise. He was hoping that their conversation would be somewhat casual and perhaps a little emotional which dealt with her struggles in her own rational framework but here she was asking about things one didn't even think of and also of things which he technically didn't matter to her much. But what surprised him the most was the curl of her lips when she had said "motivation".

"What's wrong with little nudge? Rewards, recognition, acknowledgement are all essential for personal growth. It is a way of telling the person that he is taking the right path and is doing a good job at it." He waited for her to response. It didn't matter what he believed in at the point, or anytime for that matter. All that mattered was to give an opening for an argument which will make her think in the direction she never ventured before and her answers always made him double take.

"It is perhaps the most romanticized way of leading someone's life Armaan and probably a sham too." He chuckled at her words. She had called out on his theory, the one many self help books wrote in many different ways.

"Isn't that how it is Riddhima?" He said carefully.

There was something raw about her that day. All her words had an edge to it and her arguments were sharper than usual. It wasn't that her words were not making sense or they were off the mark, no. He wasn't able to grasp the emotional aspect of the argument. Many the times their conversations were stemmed out of an emotional need that one of them needed the most. There was something else between them that day, slowly brewing. He only hoped he had enough armor to withstand the onslaught, if it happened at all.

"Armaan what will happen if people plan out their path to ensure that socially acceptable success are included in them? The goals are not set because they are one's wish or desire to achieve but because the byproduct is too lucrative to not to have that goal in the life path." She whispered softly.

"Does it matter? As far as that goal is achieved, isn't everyone happy?" He tried to console her, in a way only she would see it as a consolation. She didn't look up.

"The driving force for a person to chalk out a plan and perform is all measured and analyzed by parameters which is out of my reach of understanding Armaan. I truly want to understand people around me and understand their nuances and find out why they are what they are. But I hit these road blocks and'"

"Stop, Riddhima." She stopped her verbal tirade and refused to look at him. During the course of conversation she had seen that the calmness her voice usually possessed was lost and she was bordering on being hysterical. Her earlier panic was settling in and she felt constricted.

"What is it Riddhima?" He asked her. Now he was sure that something was completely off. She was not the one to talk because she has to talk. She treasured her words well and never gave out things for free unless one has earned their right. But in that moment she wasn't the girl to whom he had given his favorite poetry book.

"It has been close to nine years", she replied after many moments of silence and reflection of her own behavior all afternoon.

"I know Riddhima. What about it?" He asked.

"It has been on mind for quite some time now. I don't know why I felt alienated for the first time today since I have been with you for past nine years. I never felt out of odds like this before. I never drew boundaries between us. What I am is what I am with you. Everything is out for you to see. And today I wondered if I had hid a part of myself just so that you would feel little out of odds too. Once you solve the metaphor, you would discover a part of me all on your own and it is not handed out to you by me." She replied looking him in the eye. At that moment the respect which he had for her grew even more than before. She had managed to sum up the relational complexities that most couple undergoes in their lifetime and she had even figured out the inherent contradiction of her line of thought.

"Revelations", he said fondly looking at her.

"Yes. That poem has been running in my mind since morning. I feel that you know everything about me where as I know only a part of you which you don't even show to anyone else. The contradictory personality is not something I understand nor is it something I can live with at a given moment. Do you understand me Armaan?" Her tone was just above whisper but it was clear.

"What is that you wish Riddhima?" He knew where she was going but he didn't know if she knew what she wanted.

"I know the man behind the facade but I believe that I should understand the facade as well", she replied honestly. She wondered if she sounded like an idiot. Aren't people more interested in knowing and understanding face behind the mask that people put in front of society? And here she was asking the exact opposite. She hoped Armaan understood why she was asking though. But it looked like he wasn't letting her off the hook so easily.

"Why do you want to know and understand the mask of a person Riddhima? It is not real. Besides isn't revelation all about revealing inner self and things a person hides from the whole world? You know already those things about me", he replied.

The two of them were standing on the threshold where relationships mutated irrevocably. It never really mattered if the change was for good or otherwise. In their case, change was only few words away.

"I never the poem from a seeker point of view. The poem as per many was about finding out things from people or even from God by searching for it and by working hard at it. That's how relationships work, right? Once a part of your partner is revealed, you know the person more and much better than before."

"That is correct. But you have a different perception?" He asked. Of course she had different perception. All these years she had been proving herself molded from different set of ideologies than most people. And her natural intelligence had only embellished her overall personality. At that moment he couldn't take his eyes of her.

"The poem for me is addressing the hider. The one who tries to hide behind a mask is losing out on so many things because what he truly is doesn't lineup with what he presents himself as. Opportunities are lost, relationships are broken and sometimes chance to meet a wonderful person is obliterated. If I stop seeking, the person who wants to hide becomes immaterial to me because the hider has identity only when he is sought."

"If that is the case then why do you want to understand my facade? If you don't seek for it, it will remain hidden, is it not? And it will not be important anymore and the power struggle of dominance and submissive, hiding and seeking become moot." He replied softly.

"It is impossible for me to do that Armaan. How will the hider know that the seeker has stopped seeking? Won't the hider be abandoned alone? Of course by showing himself up the hider will reveal himself to the seeker by ending the game, but isn't being found much grander than being abandoned?" She replied.

He hugged her then.

It was a gesture driven by the subtle implication of her words. She made no qualms about what she wanted and to what extent she wanted. He was very glad that he spoke to her in that detention room nine years ago. She was an amazing girl back then but now she had grown into an even more amazing woman. When he let her go after many minutes, he was smiling down on her. He was glad that she had finally let go of the stiffness she had been carrying around for almost all of morning and was totally relaxed in his embrace.

For the first time in many years, he was rendered speechless.

"I'll show you everything." Armaan had said before returning to the party. She didn't leave his side for the rest of the afternoon and didn't bother much about anyone else. She allowed herself to be charmed by Armaan and giggled when he flirted with her.

Everything was foreign yet everything was strangely familiar.

Even facade is a hazy reflection of real self.

Present day:

They couldn't meet during winter given their tight schedules and many prior engagements. The frequency of phone calls had not changed drastically but they did speak more often than before. While it used to be once a month had now reduced to once a week. Muskaan had continuously quizzed her about her association with Armaan and the way they had moved around together for the entire duration of the party. She hadn't accepted Riddhima's breezy reply and had badgered her for more details relentlessly. Riddhima had not budged for many weeks but finally gave into her best friend's honest concern and told her that everything would be revealed in little more than a year. She wanted to savor the entire duration of one decade herself so she decided to let Muskaan know just before the whole deal ended. Muskaan was happy to know that Riddhima was not all that lonely that she was generally tended to be and finally let her be.

That year's journal wasn't unusual but there was an element of boyishness she had come to associate with it. Armaan had revealed a side of himself which she wasn't aware of. Along with the things he had written, he had put in CDs, recipes cut from newspaper and silly news items again ripped from newspapers. The journal showed an ordinary life of an ordinary doctor who was an extraordinary man. She loved it.

She smoothed the dress on and ran her hands on it to smooth any invisible wrinkles. The anticipation was getting to her.

She pulled on the last journal of the lot, as she waited.

Sookie