prenote: heavy duty emotional atyachaar ensues here on. please bear 😆 i asked myself why i'd made this piece so sad, when i was finishing up this chapter and i remembered the 'song' given for theme - blame it all on khusiiii! 😆
** Contd... from where it was left last time **
~3~ A steaming cup of coffee was thrust into his hands. Well, at least she had trusted him to drink it himself. Cause the way she was going for the drill, she may as well have jammed the cup to his mouth and forced the scalding dark liquid down his throat to make sure it was all inside him at the count of three.
Meanwhile, the five words 'how', 'when', 'why', 'what', and 'who' were featuring generously in her endless chattering, of which he could catch only the overall essence - given both her speed and the bubbling content. She skipped topics and back traced them, going from feeling guilty about having kept him freezing outside to justifying herself on account of his incomprehensible secret keeping, to interludes of going all mushy about how touching, albeit twisted, his way to surprise her was and how she now understood why he'd been laying low for these two days ... her complaining rant and affectionate wonder, pondering speculations and self drawn conclusions continued in an all out defiance to any chronological conformity, while also remaining predominantly one sided, cause the few several times that he did open his mouth to correct her, it was to no avail.
Consequently, Abhimanyu Modi's big confession was not getting its deserved big break. The second, big break.
For his earnest utterance on the doorstep, he concluded with little to doubt, had been superseded by the trance his presence had seduced her better senses with. Now he would have to introduce himself all over again, and by heavens, if ever an introduction had seemed half as daunting. The sense of foreboding, which had quickly reestablished its tantalizing grip over him, post that initial relief of reunion, was of a magnitude that its life altering gravity could stand to challenge the history making potential of say...a Bush-Osama introduction round...or Bush-Saddam...
"AM!" She exclaimed, breaking into his secret thoughts.
"Nikki what would you do if you met Saddam Hussain?" The words left him aloud in a careless overflow of his unbridled chain of thoughts, before he could check himself from committing the idiocy.
"WHAT!"
She nearly burned his hand as hot coffee promptly jumped out in a spill from his loosely held mug, to match her own startled jump. It ended as a rapidly spreading brown blot upon a pile of gossip magazines which lay hastily gathered next to the couch. Either that was irrelevant damage in her opinion, or she couldn't sacrifice the chance to stand up in all her element, and look down upon him. Abhimanyu mustered a smile that looked crudely sheepish.
"No, no, ignore that." He muttered, "I just..." and shrugged. The unconvincing excuse resulted in a frown, a tad more concerned than disdainful now, flitting across her features.
"Did you hit...head...or the cold...chill..." her words were too stray to become a structured sentence, but she didn't waste her time with them, springing to action instead as her soft cozy palm came to cup his forehead, which was only just beginning to warm up. It didn't stop there, as her other hand went on to rake through his thick set hair.
"Nikki..." he urged quietly, taking hold of her wrists, gently, but firmly, and prying them away from himself to consequently pull her wholly to himself, so she was squeezed in to the snug little gap beside him on the couch.
"You don't have a bump." She concluded, almost sadly, like she'd have preferred for him to have one. A new moon cut smile marked his lips. "But you totally hit your head somewhere, didn't you?"
He clucked his tongue, denying. Hint of amusement crept into his slowly forming expression, which ultimately settled for a small, plainer smile, and throwing his arm around her, he drew her closer such that she had more space to sit than just the very edge of the seat.
"I was just being random..." he said, off handly. Not that she bought it anymore than before.
"Random doesn't even begin to explain!" she told him in a voice that tried to be reprimanding, but ended up sounding uncertain. "Retarded might be closer." Then just as if mocking him was her means to de-stress, she turned to him, a glint in her eye. "Or how else was my dear boyfriend expecting late Mr. Saddam to rise from the dead? Simply because he'd missed making acquaintance with the phenomenal Nikita Malhotra!"
"Its the 'smitten in love' psychological disorder! Makes you wana show off your girl to all alike, living or dead!" he stated, in a matter of fact tone. Nikki bit onto her smile. He was one crazy man. And she was so in love with him.
"That sounds much more like it. I was making silly assumptions of your being overcome by a.... a sudden paroxysm of...partial amnesia... or something!" He chuckled softly at her play-along retort, rolling his tongue, especially at her accompanying hand gestures and animated little frowns. Shaking his head, he drew one of her hands into his and begun playing with her delicate fingers which looked like a little girl's, in his very masculine hand.
"Don't let the med school professors brain feed you with such BS darling! There's nothing like a 'sudden paroxysm of partial amnesia'." He told her, in a cheeky tutoring manner. Rubbing his thumb lightly over her knuckles, then drawing out the fingers and running it over the nails painted cherry red. Not once, she observed, meeting her gaze directly.
"Yeh? And what kind of medical authority may you be to make such declarations?"
"Oh trust me I'm a..." he almost did say it in the flow of jesting. Before biting back the words - 'senior neural surgeon'. "A doctor. Well, almost."
And he laughed a little. A hesitant laugh. He was nervous, she didn't know what about, but he was. She knew it already when he begun fiddling with her hand. It was one of his signs. Instinctively, Nikki linked her fingers into his, and gave his hand a light squeeze. Making him look up, into her eyes.
Which did all the talking on her behalf, as she didn't speak up, right away. Her smile was urging, and somewhat urgent. It was evident she had had enough of a wait. Everything about her presence right then assured him to make peace with doubts and speak his mind. Abhimanyu knew for a guarantee, this was his chance. Now, or never.
"I'm a senior neural surgeon." He said. And all her expressions froze into momentary stillness. Before transformation in them began to take over.
Apprehensively, his breath was hitched somewhere inside, in his dire need to comprehend this change. Had he fallen prey to betraying signs?
***
A knock on his door brought Abhimanyu out of the mire of memories. Swiftly, he replaced the pristine gild frame into the top drawer before grunting the customary 'come in'.
"Dr. Modi, the surgery was successful." he was informed by the resident doctor who looked unusually bright right out of a 5-hours long operation. "These are the pre-op tests diagnosing the hemorrhage and the post-op vital statistics, an hour after surgery."
"Hm."
The resident doctor stood waiting for his senior to peruse the file, with subtle signs of restlessness.
"Have a seat."
"I... yes... thank you."
"No anomalies I can spot. Of course there's still the night ahead to be monitored."
"I did detail out everything about the case to Dr. Grewal." Abhimanyu looked up, surprised.
"But I thought you were on call another 12 hours?"
"Actually, I took an off for the long weekend. Dr. Grewal is filling in for me." A brief nod, and his eyes were back to the file.
"Traveling?"
"Yup. Headed east."
Abhimanyu cleared his throat. Then tipped the mid-frame of his glasses sightly up the bridge of his nose.
"East."
He said, hoping not to sound inquisitive, and yet, the question had been asked.
When he heard the destination spelled out in response, his breath felt caught somewhere midway on its way out. With an effort, he cleared his throat again, as if to mobilise a stuck up jam in there. Some tens of seconds later he shut the file, which he had stopped paying attention to about a minute ago. Handing it to the resident doctor he pulled up a smile that was politely curious.
"Tailgating with mates?"
"Er, no. My girlfriend. She's goes to med school there."
Resuming the ordinary task of breathing became all the more tedious. A part of his numb brain detected a muffled scream inside, asking him to get the damn name. But Abhimanyu quit without putting up a fight, just as the words seemed ready to tumble out. Instead, he gave a final single nod. And a bitter smile, which was luckily too faint to betray his emotion. Then, turning his chair around, he came face to face with the blank wall behind his desk, which offered him no answers, whatsoever. The agonized expression of discomfort was kept a secret by his back upon the exiting resident doctor.
Dr. Armaan Malik.
***
"Abhimanyu...Modi...?"
The name rolled off her tongue in an alien voice. She sat physically stunned. The inside of her head, in contradiction, an Atlantic storm; the inside of her heart, a drum off-rhythm, losing beat. Seconds ticked away. The raging tempest and the dull thudding overlapped. She felt like she was drowning a 1000 feet under, into deep waters that had punctured her lungs, muffled everything into a deafening silence, and eventually, clouded her mind... and vision.
Actually, it was the welling of tears. She couldn't feel them really, as they stung and filled her eyes, suspended in there but they were blinding everything into a blur of colors. She couldn't feel the choking in her throat either, but it was rendering her breathing extremely laborious.
"Abhimanyu Modi.." he confirmed sounding hollow, his expression, on account of hers, already dreading the worst. She was snapped out of the involuntary dead weight feeling.
The sound of that name. Only minutes ago, it would have meant nothing. Just another name... Now it was like the sound of glass breaking into a million shards. And the pain that seared through her was like walking bare feet upon those million pieces.
And she couldn't say what was more unbearable - the numbness from drowning, or this spasm of pain.
How could he? All this time. So many months. Everything was suddenly a lie. He was a lie. They, were a lie.
She'd met this man.
Become friends.
Fallen in love.
Shared her life.
Bared her soul.
Given herself.
Pined for him her waking hours.
Longed for him on long nights.
Loved him with all she had...
Because it was only with his coming into her life, that she'd ever discovered hope and care. And trust. That was it! All her insecurities from growing up in broken homes had been tossed out of the window, and the reclusion that had seemed eternal had been dispelled. He'd made her want to believe. And she'd believed him alright. More than anyone, and anything in the world. Recklessly!
And all that while, she'd been played for such a fool!
She'd been called the naive country girl from South by many. She'd laughed it off. The east coast lacked candid innocence, she'd mocked back. And laughed more as others did on that too. But even he'd said the same. He'd told her she was too simple. Unassuming. Uncorrupted. Then he'd said that it was what made her special, for him. And she'd felt special...
But what he'd really been meaning was this! Oh she was such a fool!
Countless crisscrossing thoughts went round in circles inside her mind at dizzying paces. It made her feel faint. She hoped she would faint, and not wake up... for a long, long time. A paroxysm of partial amnesia...the cute joke suddenly turned a cruel shade , and a soundless, mirthless chuckle escaped her through pained expressions.
"Nik..."
She pushed him, an unbelievable bout of energy surfacing in that instant. Or maybe it was vehemence. Or wrath. Or all of them. It rose rapidly inside her, like bubbling sulphuric acid. Refusing to be calmed. His hand only just made to touch her upon the arm, when she jerked it away, jumped to her feet and then, fled from the room. All in the blinking of an eye. To get away from him.
As far away as she could.
***
Can't stop the rain from falling down, oh
Can't stop the world from turnin' round, oh
Can't stop my heart from loving you
No,
no [No, no], no matter what you do, baby ...
A sudden silence fell over the room as the stereo was knocked off the shelf, its cord coming lose. The lyrics ahead however continued, as an echo inside her head.
An echo of that evening. Another trivial detail mocking at what she was far from getting over. It had been more than a year since...
In the residents' lounge, she sat slumped, head held between her hands, fingers pressing against the temples, hoping to bring some relief from the tiresome headache. And then this song had begun streaming from the currently tuned station on the portable stereo stationed across from where she sat. Although the radio had been playing in the background all this while, it was only upon recognizing the wretched lyrics that her attention had been sought.
And so a heavy hard bound from the library had gone flying at the player - in an uncontrollable moment of anguish.
She didn't need any more freaking reminders of that evening for heavens sake! It was what she'd been thinking of anyways, again. Cause that was what Nikita Malhotra usually did with whatever time she ever had to herself, when she wasn't just driving herself into sheer exhaustion with work. Not that she wanted to have anything to do with this hollow nostalgia. What would she not give to wipe off that chapter from the book of her life. If only, it were so simple...
If only, she'd ever stop hurting...
There was just no riddance of his haunting confession. Because all that her empty days, and nights emptier still ever brought her, were memories of times with him.
She had had days, weeks, and eventually months to retrospect. And although time had not mellowed the pain, it had certainly enabled her to view facts with lesser prejudice and greater rationality than she had been capable of initially. She had come to concede that it was unlikely he had been simply fooling her. Because in hindsight, she could not deny that the evening had been tumultuous for him too. He had genuinely cared.
However, the assurance of not having been his little toy was small compared to the consequent realization. That he had compromised their relationship from the very point of its inception, by being less than candid. To have been involved with a man she had never really known had blasphemy written all over it... like an infamous affair from a Vegas holiday. It made her genuine, deep love seem like a caprice, a passing adventure between anonymous chance lovers who eventually moved on with their respective lives, with nothing more but a little out-of-line-experience to pocket... It was like having to discover that the reality she had been living so sincerely, was trapped inside a cock and bull tale woven to maintain a farce for seemingly harmless fun. And that feeling, she could not brush away.
He had betrayed them.
Because she couldn't forget that, she also couldn't forgive it.
Not forgiving him, it turned out, was not synonymous with not loving the man she had taken to be the one...for her. No matter what she tried to tell herself, a weak little part of her head always gave in to wondering if, just in case, she wasn't misunderstanding. If indeed, listening to him that night could have cleared her doubts for good. If neither giving him that chance, nor holding onto 'their thing' had been a hasty decision. If staying apart actually made sense because her life hadn't really worked out without him, after him. If, in fact, she genuinely neither wished, nor willed to start all over again.
This time with Abhimanyu Modi.
As that name entered her thoughts, her jaw hardened. It could not however, suppress the immense self pity that rose within and moistened her eyes, leaving her slightly breathless. Absently, she pulled at the top of drawers from the desk she was seated at. And brought out her inhaler. From habit she shook it, then pumped in three puffs, before replacing it to its original spot. Then, sighing, she shut her eyes - which increasingly stung - while tiredly massaging her aching head. Who was she punishing anyways - he who had ruined everything that was wonderful in her life, or herself to have given him the right. Resignedly, she gave up on trying to fight the vivid memory.
For what had felt like a long time, she had heard him banging upon her bedroom door that evening, after she'd locked herself inside. Endearing, pleading, swearing, imploring that she open up and listen to him, only listen... He had even offered her sporadic, in-explicit answers from the outside, but although the words had even reached her for a while, she had been utterly incapable of processing information.
And it was some weeks before she could actually brave the depressing reminders and bring herself to mull over his words - or whatever little she had heard of them. Sadly (or not) there wasn't much she could recall that he had said to her. Except the basics. His real name. His real professional designation. That he really loved her. That he was never cheating. However, what drew her attention the most, in retrospect, was the scenario as such. Like how she had not wondered that evening, given her devastated state of mind, why he had not just left her alone. Why he was so bent upon being let inside, and fixing the damage. Why, he had flown all the way to her campus only to reveal the truth... if he really gave as little shit about her, as she had initially made herself believe. Quite simply, she admitted in hindsight, she had been too distraught herself to be aware of his breakdown. Much less empathize with him.
It wasn't much her fault though. His words had been like a bolt from the blue, and as soon as she'd fled him and receded into her recluse, a chain reaction of notions had self triggered inside her head, all of which had led her to this ugly, and cheap, and very trashy revelation about her position in their 'relationship'. Her self esteem, so to say, had plummeted to an all time low; her mind was befuddled out of proportion, and her heart pained like it was physically stabbed. The initial unfeeling but incessant flow of tears had eventually worked themselves into hollering cries, till she was far too enervate for the effort. Her breathing had become dangerously ragged, her head spinning had zoned out and gradually the sobbing had muffled down until she really did pass out.
When she had come around again, she wasn't sure what had woken her up. The apartment had been bathed in an eerie stillness. In a flash, the events preceding her passing out had come back to her and although she was a medical student, she'd never have known how to diagnose the pain inside, nor how to subside it. It had killed something inside her to admit that she had still thought about him, wondered if he had left or...Hastily, she had forced her mind shut.
Looking at the sky outside the window by her bed she had found it laden with more snow to come. It did however look on the brink of dawn break, and although her eyes had stung, her throat had felt parched and her entire body had ached, she had dragged herself out of bed. After a quarter hour of blankly staring at the bathroom mirror, another hour of trying to drown herself in the bath tub (in vain), and mechanical ten minutes of dressing herself in work formals without much care to how spent she looked, she had unlocked her door - and found him half leaning in the uncomfortably sprawled position against the wall right by the door.
Her hand had flown to her mouth, to cover the cry that would have escaped otherwise, and she was almost decided upon locking herself back in the room till somehow, life would desert her body. Just the memory of the sight of him in that form made her eyes sting now, in the residents' lounge even a year later, and she buried her face firmly into her hands.
In an objective perspective, she may have appeared to be making too much fuss over a mere name. But even as time had passed her by, the clouds of misgivings and gloom had never quite cleared out. Over and above all thoughts was one - him having hidden his identity from her, amidst the kind of unrestrained intimacy that their bond held. And every time she thought of it like that, the idea repulsed her. That self judging predicament did not let her drop her guard anymore. Even under the influence of occasional weak moments.
Months had passed, and never could she think of that night and its series of events and consequences without arousal of this complicated mix of emotions within her. Her initial determination to close the chapter always seemed to find temptation to waver, and honest to herself, she just didn't know what she wanted anymore.
After several seconds Nikki finally looked up. Eyes bloodshot from the tears she had stubbornly held back on. As if! A glance at the wall clock announced 6AM, and it made her groan. Two hours, to her next shift. She had no hope for sleep to oblige her anymore than it usually did, and resigning to thoughts of him, she made some effort to deviate them to happier times... say for example, the time when it had all begun..
The Christmas ball - a masquerade - two winters ago.
***
"Nikki! Please open the door!"
His pleading went in vain for the nth time, and his awareness of the damage done grew exponentially. As she continued crying, he stared dejectedly at the door separating them.
"Nikki...sweetheart, hush! Please...you've got to stop crying. Its going to trigger the asthma-"
A crash followed from somewhere inside, cutting him short, and although it was only moderately loud, Abhimanyu immediately panicked. "NIKKI! What was that? Are you okay? ANSWER ME NIKITA! Please...! Say you're not doing anything stupid!...Nikki? NIKKI! Are you even listening?! OPEN THE DOOR DAMN IT!"
It didn't help to yell at her, anymore than it had to grovel and beg. She had to quit pushing him away. He could tell she still cared, or would she suffer so much on his account? "If you plan to stay locked up inside all your life," he told her softly, in a somewhat regained resolve. "Then you should know that I'm just going to spend mine standing at your door. Because I'm going no where till you listen to me. One last time." He crossed his fingers before the last words. Then stood looking at the door impassively for a few minutes, but there was still no response. Damn her, he swore! She obviously cared. Why not just listen to him? A small voice inside his head pointed out that while she could perhaps not help caring, she could certainly help not trusting him again. Not even one last time. And it spoke volumes about how deeply hurt she was.
If Abhimanyu Modi had a way, he would have remained Armaan Malik all his life. Why did it matter so bloody much?!!! Had it been a mistake telling her..? But she had to know, she would have learned of it later, if not sooner. Procrastinating would not change the fact, it could have worsened matters for all he knew... Yet, could anything be worse than this? Ought he have waited longer, bidding a better occasion? Maybe his confession was most an outcome of his own dire need to stop living the farce which was killing him inside slowly, like a drug. Maybe, it had been entirely selfish. Maybe...honesty was not the best policy after all? Maybe, maybe maybe!
A ghost of a bitter scoff escaped him - honesty?! Who was he kidding here?!
Running a flustered hand through his dishevelled hair he hammered the door as persistently as he had...for a while now. His hands were going to be bruised, and swollen, and hurting later. But he did not realize, and he couldn't have cared less anyways. Because all he could hear was her sobs and hiccups. She was going to get ill if she didn't stop. There had to be something better he could do than being stuck at this cursed door! If only she would let him inside...he would make it up to her, no matter what it took. He would make it alright...
Exceedingly defeated, he couldn't help but distantly wonder, if he could make things right again, just like before?
"I'm sorry baby, I really am. Please...please open the door! I swear its not what you're imagining. Not all of it... I could never cheat you." He sighed heavily, shutting his eyes and leaning his forehead against the cold door, "I wouldn't dream of it Nikki..." and swallowed, "Never...not if my life depended on it!" The latter bit mumbled more in assurance to himself, like he needed to know, and believe, that he wasn't such a bad person. It was hard, considering how rotten he felt about himself. "I never meant for any of this to happen...I didn't foresee we would happen...you and me...wont you listen to me just once Nikita?" The non replying silence continued to fill the distance between them (except her crying) and he didn't know how long he could stand to bear this stagnation...when it was evident how much she needed him. "You have to let me inside baby..." he continued urging her, however dim his hopes of persuading, "And stop crying will you? Are you listening Nikki? I know I've hurt you immensely, but wont you give me one last chance? " And again, he rapped upon the door. Then in a burst of exhaustion and frustration he slammed a heavy fist into it. Making it reverberate about its joints. "NIKKI! OPEN UP BEFORE I BREAK THIS THING!" She didn't. "You're freaking angry so open the damn door and do what you want to get back at me!" Then, abruptly, his athletic form just collapsed down to his knees. The outburst he was fighting all that time broke like a damn, he buried his face into his hands and cried, "I love you Nikki...don't you know?...Can't you see?"
And it was like that for a while. Before he recollected himself, then wiping his face off his sleeves, he got back to his feet once more. His resolve, weaker, but without option.
"Fine." he announced, sounding audibly hoarse. "Have it your way. But you're going to listen to me alright. Whether or not you let me in..." and whether or not you forgive me, he thought grimly to himself. He couldn't help but notice that her crying had subsided. Perhaps his own outburst had quietened her, even if it couldn't move her enough to open the door? He felt a brief glimmer of hope. Yes, there was a chance that she was going to listen to him now...even if he could do nothing about this physical distance between them.
"You remember how you spilled your drink on me at the ball? The first time we met? And we fought? You didn't know me, and I didn't either, but I was on the organizing committee.." he paused pressing his lips into a thin line, "As a senior Fellow with the hospital. I'd just moved there that same fall, after completing med school. Here. Same campus, same professors, same OTs...same everything...as you." He paused again. It was almost like he was talking to her face to face, and wanted to watch out for her reaction to that bit of information. Except, the blank door staring back at him was all he had to go by. He bid himself to be optimistic for now, and let her silence pass for a subtle indication that she was listening to him carefully. Which mattered to him more than anything else at the moment. He didn't know another time in life that he'd made a confession in such earnest and died every second to know what he was bidding for in return. Anyways, he continued.
"So I was in good rapport with most other co-organizers, and it didn't take much work for me to find out who you were. I don't know why I looked it up though. It wasn't that big - our little tiff I mean - I think I was just being stuck up. Well, so after I knew you were just a beginner at med school, I sort of...erm...how do you say that...I dunno...got all superior and wicked in the head?" he stopped frowning at himself, then added on an after thought, "I wasn't really the nice kind of nice guy then." Just the way he said that made him wonder if she would want to tell him he still wasn't a nice guy. Abhimanyu sighed again. "Basically, I just conjured up this vague game plan to play a little prank and get you to...uh...like...sort of humble down...accept defeat...or something..." He paused, feeling very discomfited with the way this confession was happening. With the way his narration was sounding. He'd given this so many months of thought...but what the hell was he telling her now! If there was a remote chance of being forgiven, he was pushing it away with both hands. Like hell, here she was shut out on him thinking he was a cheat or playboy, or god knew what; and he was telling her he was not a nice guy, and that it had been a prank. Great! That would do wonders.
"Nikki..." he stuttered abruptly, "Ignore what I said. No. I mean...this is not what I'm trying to tell you. I don't even know if you're listening to me. Are you?" Of course, he met only silence in response, which he didn't exactly like. But then he also wasn't exactly a man with too many choices at that moment. "I just...its just this - I thought I'd sort of get even with you, and I didn't have a concrete 'insult you' master plan in my head, but I grabbed a mask and pulled you on the floor for a dance. The masquerade obviously helped cause you didn't realize it was me, the arguing guy, and I knew it was you, the answer back girl..."
For a moment, Abhimanyu couldn't help but smile a small smile at the way he'd tagged them both. But the silence around reminded him he was not eliciting response out of her, she wasn't even crying out loud anymore...for the third time he wondered if she was listening at all. Bidding himself to not think negatively, he was resigned to continue.
"I thought I'd come up with a spontaneous idea while dancing and...get my revenge. But I hadn't bargained for was having so much fun. Real fun. You know I've always wondered why I ever decided to become a doctor. Its that all work no play field and I'm not that kind of guy. It didn't matter that much while I was still in school...cause...school's school. There's always scope to do crazy things. It balances out. Being a Fellow sucks. The only people I ever interacted with were unconscious patients in drab hospital gowns, droning or screeching nurses, always grave sounding seniors, deans, board members...and...I don't know... hysterical relatives of patients...? Not exactly the indulgent kind of company. You can imagine how dancing with you was..." he paused, and the expression that flitted across his face would have said the emotion best. But she wasn't there to watch it. "It was liberating. It made me realize with quite a start, how...caged my life had become in those few months. How I'd stopped having a life at all. It was...you know... like that entire bubble of superiority I'd had minutes before, burst inside me, with a big bang. In having shared those few dances with you, we'd switched places. I was the loser senior living a monotony...you were the fresh med school student with a pluck about her...And I envied that. I envied you so much..." Abhimanyu stopped, remembering that evening. He didn't know if she could empathize with his feelings as he laid them out for her. It had been a surreal experience, with a kick of reality that had made him introspect all night long. By the time it was dawn break, an ideal white Christmas had welcomed him, and he had decided new year resolutions could be made a few days in advance. Top of the list being having a life again. He didn't want to grow old like one of those world famous surgeons who met unfortunate ends in massive cardiac arrests from having led stressful lives... No. He wanted better for himself. And instinct told him it would begin with her.
"You remember how annoyed you were with me insistently calling you 'Cinderella' even though you gave me daggers for it? I teased you about having disappeared at the midnight hour when everyone had just begun wishing everyone else. But it had been real for me, the tease, on account of the wake up call you had indirectly triggered in my life. It was like...I just knew, I had to pursue my new found cause, and for that I had to find you. Obviously, you had all the reasons to be skeptical about an arrogant stranger from a ball night, showing up at your door step - you have no clue how - at 8AM on a holiday, to say that he enjoyed dancing with you...and would like to be friends..."
Inevitably, the memory of her face when he'd shown up at her door step with flowers made him chuckle softly. And again, his own reaction made him aware of her lack of it. Instantly the chuckle was wiped off and replaced by a pained expression. Was he really going to lose all that they had? Had he already lost it?
Abhimanyu Modi inhaled deeply. Because he had reached that point in his narration.
The turning point. Of why and how he had chosen the pretense of 'Armaan Malik'.
***
Abhimanyu sat alone in his cabin, picking distractedly at the salad. Every time he thought about his mistake, his opinion was half divided. While a part of him had never ceased to wallow in regret, a part of him just wanted to break free and question why the issue had been blown unnecessarily out of proportion. Had he not explained himself enough? Had she really not believed him for a second. Could she not see his true emotion that underlay a series of circumstances that had happened before he knew what or how to retrace and change them? The one thing he could have done, was not keeping her in the dark so long. But going by the outcome of his eventual confession, he wondered if it would have been any different...
Why, or why did she have to call it quits!
He remembered waking up, that morning after, abruptly, at an unknown hour after having exhausted himself into a fitful, restless sleep. He had after all not slept in almost two entire days by then. Ignoring the very disturbed and highly insufficient nap at the hotel before her call had woken him up. He thought about that call, and swallowed at the welling in his throat. Everything had been so different then. She'd gotten mad at him, worried about him, gossiped about her vain neighbour, and even asked him to make choice for her dinner...she was like that - a little bit of everything packed up into that one, his love Nikita. There had always been this childlike, pure innocence about her, and much about the spark he had felt with her had to do with her candor and absolutely unaffected demeanor. It was incredible how caring she was inherently as a person, and yet how little damn she gave to what people thought or made of her, as long as she was doing her own thing, her own way. She was a rebel, and she was a fierce loyalist. She had been his personal little Pandora's box.
Once upon a time. Because the very last time that he had seen her, he distinctly remembered, there had remained no trace of the girl he knew and loved, in the face that had looked at him like a stranger. Abhimanyu sighed heavily, pushing away dinner plate. Recalling that morning after, and its culminating series of events.
***
When he woke up, it was already morning. For some seconds, his eyes hurt from being exceptionally dry and exceptionally tired, and it was some more seconds of adjusting to the dim lighting around and being at a loss of comprehending his whereabouts. Then, the sight of her bedroom door slightly ajar met his crinkled eyes and immediately, they widened. Everything was back in a flash. Hurriedly he straightened and was up on his feet, walking into her room. The bed was unmade, a damp towel was strewn over the chair by her work desk, the wardrobe was not well shut such that it offered a peak inside to him...and the door to the attached bathroom was also left ajar. It was from there, he realized, that the strong essence of a fresh shower, and her, mingled and reached his nose. He felt desire and loss rise within from the pit of his stomach, and shakily, he ran a hand through his hair. Although it was evident enough, he softly called out her name. And expectantly, he got no response.
He felt so tired, mentally and physically, that the sight of her bed, with sheets that would smell of her presence no doubt, messily scattered over, was plainly inviting to him. But anxiety got the better of him and he dragged his feet out of her bedroom to look for her other places. Except, she was no where to be found.
Shit! Had he missed her? It was decidedly early for any kind of classes yet.. He couldn't believe he hadn't sensed her presence around him when she'd walked out that door where he'd crashed. But it wasn't any easier to believe either, that she hadn't bothered with him. It was a hard hitting reality check. He couldn't make up his mind as to whether it was better to be patient and allow her this time she needed, or to cajole her into responding, someway, anyway... For the life of him, he couldn't conjecture about what was going on in that complicated head of hers.
Except, that it wasn't looking too good for him, for now.
And if that had not been good, it only got bad and then worse.
He'd dialed her, only once because he'd gotten her voicemail and figured the cell was switched off for the obvious reason. He'd begun to leave her an awkward message, then abruptly shut his phone. It had led him into serious debate - as to whether it was better to wait for her to return, or go look for her at the hospital. Although his obvious preference has been the former, he'd managed, somehow, to order himself to restrain and discipline, contemplating that her work was not what he wanted to mess up for her next. It was obvious that she was keeping her distance, trying his chance to confront her at the hospital was...unfortunately not the right thing to do.
Once that was final, he'd passed the excruciatingly slow hours in tidying up her place - between the two of them, he had always been the organized one - getting online to check emails, taking a quick shower, flipping through TV channels...and intermittently pacing the floors. When he was tired of all those things, he'd walked into the kitchen and realized how hungry he was, and had stirred up a quick pasta. Only to discover in the end that he had neither the heart, nor the appetite for it anymore. Of course, a part of it was guilt, he couldn't help but wonder if she had eaten at all. Ultimately, he'd dumped it into a bowl, sealed it and put it away into the refrigerator. Early in the afternoon he'd felt sleep trying to take over. Immediately, he'd made himself a jar of coffee. there was no affording a second time of missing her, in case she dropped by. At that thought, he had decided he could call the hospital and check her whereabouts. He was mildly irritated with himself to have not come up with it before, but then he just hastened to make he call. They'd put him on a hold for quite a while, before informing him that she had taken special permission to be able to witness an ongoing surgery in the Oncology OT.
Two things had struck him immediately. Her younger sister, the only real sibling she had ever had. Who had lost her life to an extremely rare form of early years cancer. It happened to be the untimely death of her younger sister that had eventually ripped her home, her parents apart. Although Nikki had never talked too much about her, Abhimanyu knew for a fact that it was one of those many sad truths from her childhood which had made her an overtly reticent person in general. He dreaded having pushed her back into those hellish memories. Secondly, he mused, even more miserably, she was avoiding him. If she thought he was still here, and was taking permission to attend extra surgeries, there was only one meaning to it. She wasn't going to find it easy to forgive him anytime soon.
Somehow, he'd forced himself to stay calm, and patient. And wait for her. And somehow, he had toiled through the next 4 hours. Before calling again. First her cell phone, which was still going to the voice mail; then the hospital. The lady answering the phone this time, was not too thrilled about obliging him, but he insisted that it was very urgent and reluctantly, she had relented. When she informed him of Nikita's having gone in for a surgery, another in the Oncology Unit, Abhimanyu had clicked shut his phone without waiting to hear more or bothering with saying his thank yous.
Because it had hit him now - crystal clear.
She had figured he wouldn't just go away. She was working her way around it. It was likely, that she was keeping track of calls that had come in for her, so she knew, he was still here. But how long could it go on like this. This was ridiculous!
He decided in that instant, to put an end to this game of hide and seek. He had tried very hard to keep this away from her work, but she wasn't leaving him with much choice because he couldn't stand being patient about this any longer. And that was how he had ended up going to the hospital.
Without need for instructions he'd found his way to the Oncology Unit, and further to the information desk to confirm details of the ongoing surgeries. Waves of nostalgia would have washed him over for sure, if he hadn't been in such a preoccupied state of mind otherwise. In fact, it had surprised him, when some senior doctors he crossed paths with through those once familiar corridors, had recognized, and acknowledged his presence quite promptly. When a couple of nurses on the elevator had wished him, he had guessed they knew him from his student years too, and had been somewhat embarrassed to not remember their names; but he'd smiled genuinely, hoping it covered his tracks without becoming awkward.
At the desk, he was in the middle of his question as to her whereabouts, when a young good looking doctor still in scrubs had mentioned, with a grin that was too wide for Abhi's liking, that he'd seen 'Chikki' headed towards the cafe after surgery. If Abhimanyu had wanted to feel possessive or jealous or anything like it, he hadn't had the time for then. Immediately, he'd retraced his steps to the said place...and it was from outside, through the glass doors, that he'd found her carrying a tall cup of coffee to an empty side table. Just coffee, he'd noticed, nothing to eat with it. Had she not then...?He sighed shaking his head lightly, and making way through the doors towards her. As he neared, he saw her dig out a bottle of what he recognized was high dosage Advil, and he saw her draw 2 pills at once. Abhimanyu flinched, rushing his final steps, and just before she could toss them into her mouth, he touched upon her shoulder.
Which immediately stiffened under his hand.
"Nikki..."
For a moment, she didn't respond, as he awaited her reaction. When she did stand up and turn around to face him, Abhimanyu thought there was no sight that he wouldn't chose to see , over this.
"Yes?"
With that one monosyllabic question, she gave him all his answers. Her eyes were blank. They held no recognition, whatsoever, no love or hatred or pain or ...anything else for that matter. Her voice was flat, except the ring of an enquiry to it, the polite kind, as when one stranger, addresses another.
And he knew then, that he had not only ceased to be the man she loved, but also a man she could ever hate. He was one thing, and one alone to her now - a stranger...
And in the silence and paralysis that seemed to grip him all over he heard but one sound - that of his heart breaking.
***
A shrill beep pierced his memories. And even as he cursed the pager for giving him a start, he secretly thanked it for the distraction from that last thought...although the sight of her face from that instant continued to float in front of his eyes.
Forcefully, he trained his eyes upon the message the flashed on the drab LCD. And then he swore a second time. One of his long time senior patients had had a major relapse of unbearable pain in his head. Immediate statistics had shown reason to wheel him in for surgery.
He'd been summoned to the OT for the emergency.
Pulling on the last hand glove, as he walked his last steps towards the OT, with a resident doctor briefing him with the update, his thoughts went to the patient. He wondered if he could come out of this one alive. It was a critical relapse, and he didn't have bright hope for the man. Then he thought of his wife. They had been married for 45 years. 45 years of togetherness and love. Perhaps the old man would live, not giving up for the woman he loved. He had that fighting reason after all...
And he thought if his own cause was truly lost forever... For a fleeting instant, he was overcome by the boy he had once been. And in that instant, he bid himself on a chance - if the old man survived this operation, his love would come back to him...someday...
***
PS: THIS PART WAS FOR THE ONE PERSON WHO INDIRECTLY MADE IT HAPPEN - Sheena!!! 🤗
Edited by spln - 14 years ago
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