"chanda ko taakoon raaton mein, hai zindagi tere haathon mein
palkon pe jhilmil taarein hain, aana bhari barsaaton mein
sapnon ka jahaan, hoga khila khila
barsega saawan...
barsega saawan.. jhoom jhoomke, do dil aise milenge"
(from the song Aaoge Jab Tum, Jab We Met)
translation:
I stare at the moon at nights, knowing my life is in your hands
such stars shine upon the eyes, do come to me during the thick rains
our dreamworld will have blossomed
the rain will pour...
the rain will pour with such delight, and this is how two hearts will meet
_____________________________________"Just like in the movies, huh?" he teased her, as she sewed the button back onto his shirt.
Her brow slightly furrowed, registering confusion. Was he angry again? Was he being sarcastic? No, she reassured herself that she was just imagining things. Milind was warming up to her in a way that felt so right, after all the misunderstandings between them.
"Mazaak kar raha hoon yaar" he had said in response to her pout, with a slowly widening smile that just about broke her heart. He had never smiled at her like that before. She felt happy, satisfied, but there was something else too… She stared at his smile, feeling her insides come to life in a way that she had never felt before. For the first time in her adult life, Prachi Shah Mishra lost control of herself. She no longer felt the weight of her own body. She was for a moment afraid that her feet would start to float above the ground. In a moment of unconscious panic, she looked away, breaking the spell of his dangerous smile. She had recomposed herself and slowly begun walking away when she heard the snapping of…several buttons.
She turned around, squarely facing his impossibly adorable childishness. Did he plan on melting her heart all over again? How did he do this, how did he manage to create this intoxicating combination of bad boy charm and child-like naughtiness?
She handed him a clean shirt from the cupboard, smiling knowingly at his impishness.
She gave him a playful taunt and walked away.
Agar aap iske buttons bhi todh denge to thanda khaana hi milega.Milind's eyes sparkled in faint surprise. He liked that she could be comfortable around him, even silly. He looked longingly after her. It felt as if the sensation that her sewing fingers had left in his body went right into his soul. Delicate fingers, gentle touches, a precise sewing method. Only Prachi's fingers could make even sewing look graceful, like a beautifully choreographed dance, he thought to himself with a smile. And then the rustling of her hair against his shirt as she used her teeth to cut the thread. The fragrance of her hair had stayed with him.
Prachi had left the room, but her presence still lingered in the air, provoking a few realizations in Milind. He recalled his intimate knowledge of the temperature of her fingertips, the delicate floral fragrance of her hair still hovered about him… a fragrance so faint that it was asking to be touched, to be smelled at a closer range. He could feel how the room had registered her beautiful presence. It was as if the walls did not want to accept that someone so beautiful had left its boundaries. It was as if the air in the room was hanging on to her every residue.
It surprised him that he was thinking like this. What was that old filmy line…
main shaayar to nahin, magar ae haseen, jab se dekha maine tujhko mujhko shaayari aagayi. Milind shook his head, grinning widely. It felt good that he had become so familiar with these minute details about her. The realization that this meant he was close to her dawned on him suddenly, without warning. His eyes stayed fixed on the door she had left open. She had also opened the doors within him. He hadn't allowed himself to acknowledge how much he had always liked her despite his best intentions to hate her, how he found her graceful disposition and gentle confidence overwhelmingly simple, clean, honest…attractive. And today, there were no barriers between him and the most beautiful truth of his life…Prachi Mishra.
* * *Milind was driving home from a tiring day. His mind was thoroughly unsettled. Another rough business meeting with the all-too-familiar subtext. His investors always had their doubts about him because of his background. It was as if rich snobs had it pre-programmed to only associate with other rich snobs. And the audacity of a man with a modest background rising to the top challenged their very authority. He had gotten used to these things, but that didn't mean it stopped irritating him. He still had a lot of insecurities to conquer. Such business interactions often left him with a sense of exhaustion. It is tiring always having to prove oneself to the world, he realized.
It was only well after he had pulled into the driveway that he realized he had left that world. He was home now, and home was no longer another battleground. It was his safe place.
No, Prachi was his safe place, he corrected himself. The thought of her brought on an unconscious smile.
He was about to enter when he saw Prachi and Neev chatting at the entrance. Jealousy quickly stung him, but he quietly reprimanded himself. No more assuming the worst, he told himself. He tried to reason with his jealousy but he simply hated the way Neev looked at Prachi, as if somebody named Milind Mishra didn't exist, as if the world only had Neev and his Prachi. How could Neev attempt to silence his entire existence that way…? Milind walked over quietly. Prachi noticed him and looked at him with a love in her eyes that reassured every doubt in his mind. Prachi's eyes, the only existing antidote to Milind's anger. This was the difference between Aisha and Prachi. Aisha's love for Milind had always provoked him, and Prachi's love reassured him in a way that he could feel in every fibre of his body.
Neev made an abrupt exit after exchanging requisite greetings with Milind. Prachi filled Milind in on her day. She had gone to meet her friend Vaibhavi, and on her way back had run into Neev and he joined her on her way home for a cup of tea.
"What about you? How was your day?" she asked.
"Good and bad, forget it… it's over. I'm just glad I'm home now. With you..." The last part of his answer elicited a shy smile from Prachi, who glanced downwards.
He submitted completely to the beauty of her shyness. She made him feel as if he was the only person in the world who was entitled to witness her like that, vulnerable and defenceless.
She changed the topic to Sukriti's college functions to help divert Milind's attention from her profuse blushing. By helping Sukriti negotiate with Milind for permission to attend college parties and to generally enjoy the life of a carefree youngster, Prachi had become her closest friend. Milind was beginning to relax a little bit, allowing his sister some of the freedoms that he himself had not had. It helped him to know that Prachi was always watching over Sukriti as her closest confidante.
* * *Three months later…The past 3 months had changed everything at the Shah house, or the Mishra house rather, its more current identity. Milind's jealousy of Neev, a series of misunderstandings between Milind and Prachi, Aisha's fanning of the fire, and some fated twists and turns. Prachi had left the house. Or more accurately, Milind had let her go believing that she loved Neev and was meant for him. Some insecurities he could not conquer, after all. Prachi had been staying with her friend Vaibhavi, who had gotten her employed at her advertising agency. Prachi's artistic nature helped her land the job. It was the least that Vaibhavi could do for her clearly heart-broken friend. The depth with which Prachi loved Milind was no secret to Vaibhavi, even though Prachi rarely discussed it with her. Prachi also never talked about the pain that her father's loss had left her with, and how this pain was irreversibly worsened by her sister Aisha's hatred for her. That was how Prachi was, she rarely brought up her own thoughts and troubles with others, although she was always willing to listen to others and help others with their problems.
"This will be your downfall Prachi," Vaibhavi always reminded her.
The evening that Prachi had found Baba in a confused and agitated state had led to a new turn of events. Before she knew it, she was back in the Mishra house at Milind's suggestion, much to the chagrin of Aisha. This was torment for Prachi, having to deal with her sister's wrath and having to keep her distance from the man she loved. But she decided that she would put up with it for Baba's sake. He was the only father figure left in her life, and he had always made her feel exactly the way Inder Shah did – understood. Baba had understood her, and for his sake, she decided to endure the pain of living in the Mishra house.
Prachi's unending thoughts about Aisha's pain and unhappiness made her feel helpless. She felt an immeasurable sympathy for her sister. Aisha's psyche was etched in pain, torment, longing, and each day she came closer to total emotional unravelling. Prachi wanted her to be happy, even if it meant that only Milind could make her happy. Prachi knew that her father's soul would rest in peace only when both his daughters were happy. Now that Milind and Prachi were no more a couple, Prachi had begun to convince herself that Milind would be more happy with Aisha than with her.
She had tried to reassure Aisha that she would not come close to Milind, that she would stay in a separate room, and promised her that Baba was the only reason she was in this house. Milind had overheard this conversation with a heavy heart. Of course you are only here for Baba, what other reasons would you have to be in this house with me, Milind had thought wistfully.
What really would have made Aisha happy is if they divorced, but according to legal stipulations from their time of marriage, due to Milind's own pre-nuptial contract, a certain amount of time had to pass before they could divorce. One year to be precise.
These were the little histories of pain that underlined the day-to-day lives of Milind and Prachi. Of course, Baba was the only one unaware of this arrangement. Baba had mistakenly thought that the reason why Prachi and Milind stayed in separate rooms was because they had a small falling out, that they would patch things up soon. What he didn't realize was that the hope of them patching things up was a charade enacted for Baba's sake alone.
Prachi continued to work at Vaibhavi's advertising agency. It was her only distraction from all the drama in the house. She spent her mornings and evenings with Baba, often taking him in his wheelchair for a stroll in the garden, reading his favourite books to him, and sometimes even helping him and Sukriti bond again under the pretext of the three of them playing antakshari. Baba's knowledge of film songs was so bad that he needed Sukriti's help to have a shot at competing with Prachi.
Prachi and Milind largely ignored each other. It was too painful to come face to face with each other. Milind was so preoccupied with his business that he was rarely home. When he was home, his head was full of the thoughts that Aisha had planted in his head about Prachi. Aisha had created a deep confusion in Milind, causing him to constantly wonder about Prachi's ulterior motives. Aisha suggested that she was there for money, and that she would use Baba to get the Shah mansion back.
Despite their mutual absence from each other's daily routines, Prachi and Milind both suffered from a loneliness that neither was willing to acknowledge. The mind is very powerful in convincing itself that lies are truth, and that truth is lie. But the heart leaves a trail of clues and reminders to battle the stubborn mind. Prachi and Milind made sure they were never together in the same room, but this didn't stop Milind from always feeling her presence in the air, as if taunting him with the knowledge that Prachi had left the room, underscoring his loneliness. Life was cruel. It felt as if he was being mocked for ever believing that Prachi loved him, that he deserved her, all of her.
In Prachi's case, it became nightly ritual to cry into her pillow while pensively staring at a framed wedding picture of her and Milind. It was easy to say she was going to protect Aisha's happiness, but it was difficult to actually let go of Milind.
* * *"Ritwik, stop!" Prachi yelled as she ran up the stairs.
The little tyke had run up the stairs and gone inside Milind's room in his attempt to escape Prachi, and especially the medicine Prachi wanted to give him. Milind's room was forbidden territory for Prachi. The last time she was there, he wasn't at home, and she felt an urge to clean his room, open his blinds, touch his pillow. It was too much for her, so thereafter she made sure it was Ramu kaka or Sukriti who did these things.
But Milind was home right now, and Ritwik had entered his room. Prachi resolved to yell from outside the room until Ritwik would come outside.
"Ritwik, you come outside right now, or I will never speak to you again!"
Silence.
"Ritwik! I'm talking to you.."
Prachi saw through the open door and neither Milind nor Ritwik were in sight. She pushed the door open wider, entering the room with careful steps.
She found Milind at his bathroom door, draped in nothing but a towel. Prachi's mouth fell open in embarrassment, and she quickly turned away. Before Milind could understand what was going on, he saw a set of tiny toes sticking out from underneath his bed. She saw them too.
She kneeled on the floor instinctively.
"Ritwik, what are you doing? You'll make yourself more sick. God knows what kind of dust and mess is under that bed. This room is always so messy…" She bit the tip of her tongue as she let out those last words. She heard a sigh from behind her.
"Sorry." A soft Prachi sorry. Milind hated how her "sorry" could pull at his heart even now. He didn't acknowledge her apology. He was going to pretend that he didn't hear her voice, the voice that he missed more than anything else.
"Just what is going on here?" Milind demanded.
Prachi opened her mouth to explain but was loudly interrupted.
"No! I won't come out, I don't want medicine!"
"Yes you will," she said as she dragged Ritwik out, sneezing as she bumped her head on the bed's edge. "Shit!" she said unconsciously, taken aback by the sharp pain, as she put her hand to her injured head.
"You said shit!!" yelled Ritwik, now fully emerged out of the bed, at a much embarrassed Prachi.
"No I didn't!" she countered childishly.
"Did too!" came the toddler response, causing Milind to chuckle. Prachi heard this, and stopped midway before she angrily turned her head around… he was in his towel, she remembered.
She picked up Ritwik to make her way out of the room. But Ritwik was clearly too heavy for her to handle, and particularly when he was struggling to get away from her. Just as Prachi was beginning to lose her balance, Milind caught her mid-fall in one swift motion, even as Ritwik managed to get away, making a break for the hallway. Milind's face was directly above hers, and a small droplet of water from his wet hair landed on her eye. She silently reproached him in her mind for never drying his hair properly. She shut her eyes, as if refusing to look at his irresistible face. Despite himself, he scanned her facial expression into memory. Despite himself, he recognized the small twitch in her left eye. And despite himself, he noticed the stubborn sealing of her slightly quivering lips, as if shutting him off. He didn't want to acknowledge that this hurt him a little. Prachi came to her feet, and they both recovered from the moment as they awkwardly shifted eyes from each other.
"Ritwik is Vaibhavi's son, he's staying here for a week because she's in Shimla for a business meeting."
Milind nodded. He remembered now that Vaibhavi was a single mom.
"He's cute," he said involuntarily.
"…and equally naughty," she said with a sigh of frustration.
"Kids should be naughty…he has many years to go before he starts to face heartbreak, deception, and every other amazing thing life has to offer."
A sharp sting. His sarcasm, she hated it. She briskly walked out of the room.
As usual, she didn't respond. Some things never change, Milind thought to himself.
Sleep came with much difficulty that night.
Prachi lay in her bed fighting off thoughts of Milind. The water from his hair that dripped onto her face, as if tempting her to touch his hair. To force him to dry it at least. She wanted to shake him out of his stubbornness. "I did not deceive you," she wanted to say until he believed her. She wanted to hold him and ease his pain. When would she stop getting these insane urges to care for him, she wondered. "He's only your husband on paper, Prachi," she reminded herself.
She couldn't sleep. She walked out towards the swing in the backyard with a book in hand. She would hardly get much reading done in the dim patio light, but reading was just pretext. She needed fresh air.
The only person in the house who always watched her read in the backyard from the darkness of his balcony...he couldn't sleep that night either. Not because it was a unique night, but because it was just like every other night. Full of the same torment.
* * *Three months later…Prachi was fuming. She was pacing in her room, with her eyes fixed on the briefcase on her bed. Milind had flung the suitcase, filled with two crore rupees, onto the bed a few minutes ago. "Consider it your alimony," he had said. "You could have just asked, there was no need to access my bank account," he said curtly.
Even now he thought she was interested in his money. Prachi felt infuriated. She wanted to confront him more than anything, but she wanted to cool down before doing that. She was afraid of her own anger.
Last week, Aisha had spotted Prachi walking out of the bank where Milind had his biggest savings account. Since then, she had managed to instigate Milind that Prachi was using her legal rights as his wife to access his money. She led Milind to believe that Prachi may be stealing from him. Aisha had finally realized that Milind was no longer in love with her, and that their relationship no longer had a future, but she still could not stop feeling suspicious of Prachi.
When initially faced with the possibility that Prachi could steal, Milind refused to believe it. That was not the Prachi he knew. But the longer he mulled this over, the more it hurt him. Could it really be true that she was after his money? Tonight the pain was too much for him to bear. He had drunkenly barged into her room and threw the money on her bed.
An hour later, he heard a knock on his door. It was her. He knew the way she knocked. He hated that he knew that. What drama is going to follow now, he wondered angrily as he signalled for her to come in with a brusque "what is it?"
"Not enough? Want more?" he barked into her stoic face. She had clearly been crying, her eyes were red. This calmed him a little. He wanted to see her cry; he wanted to see her suffer as much pain as him.
"Thanks, but no thanks," she said softly and rested the suitcase on the floor. "I have no use for this, and no interest in your money," she continued.
"That does not explain why you were making transactions in my bank account," he said.
She looked at him wistfully.
"Surprised that you got caught?" he smirked.
"Not surprised. Not surprised at all," she said. How could she ever expect him to trust her?
A tear fell from her eye. He had his back to her, and her single tear fell with no one to witness its existence.
"Listen to me, Milind Mishra, and listen carefully," she spoke up, "I am not staying in this house because I belong here, I am staying here for Baba, for Sukriti…" she left her sentence incomplete, and wiped the tears that followed in quick succession. She breathed deeply and continued.
"As long as I do stay here, I will do so with dignity, which is why I deposit a few thousand rupees from my salary every month in your account."
He turned around to face her, surprised at this revelation.
"Consider it rent," she said, refusing to meet his eye. She did not want to cry in front of him yet again, and here she was, crying. Here she was, providing another explanation.
She handed him a receipt which showed that she had given up her rights to his bank account before starting to make the deposits. According to the agreement, she could not withdraw any money.
"It's a good thing I kept this," she said as she sniffled.
Milind felt too ashamed to look at the receipt that she placed in his hand. He couldn't even look at her face in acknowledgment. He didn't have to. She had left the room immediately after that.
* * *Prachi got off the phone with Neev and walked towards her balcony. She stood facing upwards, looking at the sky. Her skin felt like it was burning.
"She will be happy, papa, as long as she has your blessings," she said softly to the sky.
She had tried her best to get close to Aisha, but she realized now that that would never happen. Aisha was slowly getting calmer, and Neev and Aisha were on more friendly terms. After talking to Neev, Prachi realized that something was blossoming between them, which made her really happy. It didn't matter if her sister was not close to her as long as she had Neev's support, and as long as she was happy in her own life.
Milind was still off limits, as far as she was concerned. Not just because she didn't want to hurt her sister, but because their relationship had deteriorated, and she was tired of holding on. She needed to let him go, to let him find happiness again.
Prachi felt weak. Her body was still burning. The paleness of her face would have caused concern in Baba and Sukriti if they were home, but they had both gone to visit Milind and Sukriti's Bua in Benares. Baba had also wanted to spend some time in the holy atmosphere, so they had prolonged their trip for an extra week.
Milind ate his dinner quietly, sitting alone at the dining table. He looked for clues of her in his food, as he often did. He knew what her cooking tasted like. He derived secret satisfaction from the fact that she cooked for him, that she cared for him. Tonight it was obviously Ramu kaka's cooking. Where was she anyway, he wondered. It's not like they ate their food together, but he noticed when she wasn't around.
As if on cue, she slowly came down the stairs dressed in a white shalwar kameez, deliberately avoiding his gaze. She looked unwell, and this elicited a crease in worried Milind's forehead. She had gone straight into the kitchen. A few minutes passed before he finished his dinner, washed his hands, and followed her into the kitchen. He found her cutely perched on the countertop, with her back to him and unaware of his presence, nibbling at a sandwich Ramu kaka had made for her. He was just about to turn away and leave when she coughed.
"That sounds awful," he said, coming around to the other side of the counter top to face her.
"I'll be okay," she said.
"Prachi, you look so pale, what's wrong?"
"I said I'll be fine."
He watched her get off the counter-top with difficulty, re-arranging her slippery chiffon dupatta around her. These were the lengths she went to in order to avoid eating with him. Her stubbornness would never change, he thought to himself as he shook his head.
"Something wrong with eating on the table?" he asked sarcastically. He was met with silence.
She slipped away from him and quietly put away her plate, all the while aware of his eyes following her every move. She felt herself getting warmer and warmer. Suddenly thoughts and images fused in her head into a big jumbled mess. Her fever, Aisha, papa, his eyes, her sandwich. And then, total darkness. The last thing she felt was the cold hardness of the floor onto which she had collapsed.
* * *Her eyelids felt heavy, offering much resistance as she opened her eyes. She saw Milind sitting in an armchair a few feet from her. He was intently reading a business magazine. In a confused state, she tried to take control of her weak body. When he heard the sheets rustle, he quickly came to her side.
"Take it easy, don't try to get up so fast," he said gently.
She had sweat copiously, cooling off most of her fever. He helped her sit up and handed her a glass of water.
She sipped its cold liquid content slowly at first, then faster. She was dehydrated. As a stark contrast, it was raining heavily outside.
"Did I.. faint or something?" she asked quietly
"Yeah. When I brought you here, your temperature was around 104 degrees," he said.
Some of the tiny strands of hair around her face were still wet from her sweating. She looked a lot less pale, and her lips had returned to their full colour. Great, she has to look beautiful even when she's sick, he thought to himself, cursing his fate.
When he had carried her upstairs to her room, he had been panicked with worry. He gave her some medicine for her fever and let her fall asleep in his arms. Unable to bear being that close to her, he had gently withdrawn himself and settled in the armchair across from her bed.
She handed her glass back to him, fixing her eyes on his hands. She secretly loved his hands for their warmth and broadness. It felt like she could hide all her pain in those very hands. Although she wouldn't admit it, she needed him. She needed to place her life, her entire being, in those hands. She defeatedly laid her head back into her pillow and sniffled as she cried softly.
"Prachi, what's wrong?" he asked tenderly. The tenderness in his voice amplified her crying and her desperate pain of needing him, wanting him so badly.
He instinctively sat down next to her and stroked her face.
"Stop… Prachi, you'll make yourself more sick," he said close to her face in a whisper-like voice.
She looked at his eyes, and in one moment he knew why she was crying. His own tears flowed in quick succession. He quietly got in bed with her, pulling her body to his own.
There were no three words they could say to each other to convey their feelings. No amount of words would do it justice.
He kissed her face eagerly, mixing both their tears into one. She smiled through her tears at the wet, saltiness of their faces. He stared soulfully at her face, submitting finally to his truth, his Prachi. She wrapped her arms around him, digging her fingers into his hair and burying her face into his chest. He felt a rare humility rush through his entire being as he realized she had defeated his every barrier, his every insecurity. He wanted to apologize to her. She grazed his lips with hers, pulling him into a deep kiss, not allowing him to apologize.
The rain poured even harder outside, as if to mark the success of true prophecies, as if to celebrate the coming together of two hearts... the triumph of true love.
Do dil aise mile hain.Edited by --arti-- - 16 years ago
Itti Si Khushi Sab TV
