Prepared for all brickbats with Mahendra Singh Dhoni's cricket gear.😆
What Transpired
AD One Shot
Deepika looked up from the files she was sorting. Dark circles ringed her eyes and the disheveled hair contributed to her wraith-like appearance. Her coat was crumpled and her shirt was a mess of stains. Deepika Ghosh, for the first time in her life, was untidy.
Tears stained her face.
"Yes Neha?"
Neha looked down at her boss with a piercing sadness. Aaryan's death had affected them badly, and most of all, it had affected Deepika the worst. Just when she had allowed herself to entertain the thought of a future with the man, he had been snatched away rudely by fate.
"Mr. Gupte ka phone hain."
Deepika shut the file and got up from the floor. Suddenly, she saw a mug of coffee wedged between the legs of a chair, stowed away from just about anyone who would enter the room. She leaned and picked the mug up.
Predictably it contained black coffee. It was stale – looked about a week or more. Deepika smiled at the dregs fondly.
Typical Aaryan.
Deepika stifled a smile, as Neha cleared her throat again.
"Sorry. You said something?"
"Mr. Gupte. Aaryan ke solicitor ka phone hain."
Deepika snorted, "Aaryan ke solicitor?"
Neha shrugged, pushing up her specs, "Haan."
"Okay, kahaan?"
Neha shuffled. "Umm..cabin main transfer kiya hain…"
Deepika stood on the spot for a moment.
The cabin.
She had avoided it like the plague for three days. Just the knowledge that the chair opposite to her won't be ever filled by the man drove her into the abyss of sadness.
She took a deep, calming breath. Now was as good as anytime to get over him. To get over the past.
As she hurried towards the cabin, she reflected, 'Will I ever be over him?'
And when she pushed the door to enter, she knew the answer. No. She would always love him, no matter what.
"Hello?"
"Hello Ms. Ghosh. Sorry for your loss. My condolences," The deep voice at the other end of the receiver spoke.
Deepika looked up from her table, and at the opposite table. The chair was empty. Suddenly, she saw Aaryan sitting in it, and her breath caught.
"Ms. Ghosh?"
"Oh, sorry. Boliye?"
"Kal, Mr. Khanna ke antisanskaar ke baad kya aap aapke team members ka ek personal gathering aarange kar sakti hain? Main abhi Mr. Khanna ke parents ko bhi bula raha hoon."
"Par kyun?"
"Ma'm, Mr. Khanna ke….will ke bare main aap logon se baat karni hain."
Deepika's eyes clouded. His will. He was gone. He was gone….
"Sure," she whispered in the phone and replaced it in its cradle.
The atmosphere about the discussion table was solemn. Deepika had not summoned the team, but coming out of the office, she had seen them sitting in their respective chairs, leaving the one at the head of the table empty.
Presumably, Neha had called them.
Deepika walked over to the table and stood at her end for a few moments. Then she looked up. "Kal...anitmsanskaar ke baad," her breath caught in her throat, "Aaryan ke ghar jaana hain. Sab log…aana."
There was nothing more left to say.
The next day
Late morning
Deepika let in herself using the key they had taken from Aaryan's drawer. She knew he wouldn't have minded. She wanted to see this aspect of him – something that still marked him down as a human, but to her, he was always elevated on a pedestal. He was a flawed god to her, but a god nonetheless. He was earthy, dark and flawed, and that made him human, so that he touched the ground from his celestial abode.
She first saw the wooden jhoola. Even though Aaryan had never told her, and she had never asked, the bits and pieces about his tragedy had found their way towards her from the office grapevine. The cold, impersonal details were from the official file of the case, and of course, his special file, in which it had been recommended that he see a psychiatrist.
The house smelled of him. It was that characteristic Aaryan smell. There were aesthetically arranged artifacts and artistic paintings. Niharika obviously had a good taste. Something stirred within Deepika – the knowledge that there was nothing that could connect her to Aaryan now. And for a moment, she felt a twinge of jealousy – towards Niharika, towards Shyna. Both had received something as special and mesmerizing as Aaryan's love. And when she was just about to receive it, he had been snatched away. Brutally.
She shook herself of these thoughts. All three of them had loved him, and that, for Deepika, had been life altering. She kneeled in the living room, reduced to tears, thanking god that she had known him, she had loved him.
The door pierced the silent air. Deepika got up, wiping her eyes hastily on her sleeve.
Ajay, Neha, Shotgun, Boxer and Zubin stood in the door. She opened it to let them pass. They sat down in the room, and nobody spoke. Deepika fetched glasses of water for everyone.
The doorbell rang for the second time in the hour. Deepika was sitting a chair at the end of the room. She stirred to open it. Motioning to her with a wave, Neha got up to open the door.
Mr. Gupte was a tall, portly man with a bristling mustache.
He sat down unassumingly, at ease with the situation. Deepika wondered if it was a result of proclaiming what the dead person wanted in front of a group of expectant relatives.
Dead person. Aaryan. Those two words could not come in the same sentence. Aaryan was full of life, with never ending energy and passion, dedication. She preferred think of the situation in a different light.
Aaryan had gone away.
"EHrrmm…."Mr Gupte cleared his throat noisily, bringing Deepika back.
"I'll skip the first part and directly get on with what is important," he said in a subdued voice, playing with his spectacles.
"Sell the flat and transfer the money to my parents. All my personal effects go to Special Squad team – keep what you like. Give away the rest."
He stopped, looking at the team over his spectacles.
"That's it?" Ajay asked.
"Yes, Mr. Desai. That's it."
Six Months Later
"Ajay-Boxer, mujhe tum dono ke paperwork aaj shaam tak mere table par chahie."
Ajay gulped and nodded, prodding Boxer with the other hand. The latter nodded. Deepika Ghosh in her element was downright scary.
"Good."
Deepika walked back into the cabin, shutting the door behind her. Six months had not lessened the pain of the empty chair opposite to her, but they had helped to heal raw wounds.
The night was still young when Deepika reached home. She threw her bag on the sofa and folded her jacket, draping it on the chair. The case had been a stressful one.. It had drawn out the last reservoir of her energy, but touching the memento she always kept in her pocket, she drew energy from memories and remembrances.
She put her hand in her pocket and drew out the last thing Aaryan had left for her.
______________________________________________________
A week after the will had been executed, the flat sold and everything tidied away, Neha came upto her.
She held a cardboard box in her hand.
"Deepika..tumhare liye."
Deepika looked up from her medical journal. Her eyes were red from sleeplessness and her hair was awry. She accepted the box and went back to reading the essay she had been pursuing.
"Deepika…"
The edge in Neha's voice made her look up.
Neha put her plam on Deepika's hand. "Mujhe maloom hain Deepika…We all miss him, it's okay. You..." she trailed off, tears in her eyes. Aaryan had been special to her – a brother, a protector, a friend, a guide and much much more.
I'm happy that I had a chance of knowing him. Even if he did not reciprocate my feelings. Deepika did not voice her thoughts, but looked up impassively.
"Explain that," Neha said, pointing at the box. Without another word, she stalked away.
Deepika opened the small box when Neha had left. And she started crying.
______________________________________________________
Present
Deepika kneeled in the living room, and drew out a long golden chain. She had never known what it signified, but she held it close all the same.
She got up and fetched a long, brown box from the coffee table. It was delicately carved out of sandalwood, and a family heirloom.
She opened it and placed the chain inside.
As warm tears fell on the wood, the sweet smell of sandal drifted in the air.
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