Part 5: Arrivals for departure
"Manchandaji...ek cutting chai..." He screamed at Manchanda who was busy counting rupee notes at the counter. It was that time of the day, actually to put it right, it was that time of the month and anticipation danced in his eyes as he eyed the entrance for her arrival. He hummed a familiar tune and tapped a sidekick tune on the rugged worn out table. Manchanda's teasing smile surfaced, but he kept at what he was doing the busy moment, without looking up at the youth who seemed to be half amused at himself and part anxious from the expected arrival. It now did seem impossible to make the stubborn young man to give up and so he decided to try to talk him out of the madness for the 8th time.
It had been a routine for him to visit Manchanda's tea stall in Chandini Chowk on the 20th of every month around the same time of the day. He did not come there for the famous chai or Jalebi's that the store so fondly served, but for one person in particular who visited the store for just a few minutes once a month.
Her eyes...his thoughts paralyzed at the thought of it as it ran through all the times he had calmly observed her from the same corner table. Though he could be called a devotee or a stalker in the not so milder terms, he had never made an attempt to talk to the person in question. It was an unsigned treaty that she was to approach him and not the vice versa which he so faithfully observed. When he did have all of the 5 -10 minutes to do nothing but to watch her awestruck in her poetic beauty, starting right from the time she would lift her bhurka, he had memorized her small movements, the lustrous smiles, and sound of her pure laughter. He had studied her so well that if there were ever to be a slide show hosting all her distinct smiles and actions from the last 9 visits, he would rightly label it with the correct visit number and date. Such was the morbid obsession he carried for her, but all laced with good intentions and that was perhaps what left Manchanda no choice, but let him visit his teahouse.
Somehow he did not want to give up and not when he had felt that things would soon fall in place for him. He was taught to never give up, but now there was a caustic doubt in him as he pondered if it was right to persevere in matters such as this - when it involved another person. There was no way he was socially awkward or illogically stubborn, but he had convinced himself that it was all for her well being and that given her back ground, such proposals did need its sweet time to work up to her non-existent heart.
"Ab tumhe yeh sab chod de ne chaiye" Manchanda said, nodding his head in slight disapproval and as an approving smile came back, only secretly wishing that he never did give up on his silly yet persuasive act. He picked up the tea from Munna's tea holder rack and placed it on the table before the youth who had not expected his mundane lecture. Not this day, when he had clearly declared his intents to Manchanda last month, when Manchanda had attempted the same stunt upon him.
"Manchandaji...chodiye..kyon apne waqt barbaad kar rahe ho..." the man said with a poky laugh.
"Maana ki maine tumhe yahan aane ke liye kaha...lekin vo 9 mahine pehle tha...tumhe ab haqeeqat ko maan le na chaiye..."
At that the young man grew disappointment and evidently displayed the same on his face. For well-known reasons, this did not sit well with Manchanda and he tried looking away.
He had approached the young man some nine months ago and had asked him to visit his stall. The time and date were set, but Manchanda had left an open invitation, leaving all intents and purposes hidden under a muddled explanation he had made up. But when he had reached the place and as he had sat there sipping a piping hot chai, listening to the conversation that happened by the money counter, Manchanda's devious plans had come in light to him with the same brightness as that of the day during which the event took place. Ever since that time, the young man had never missed the 20th of any month to be present at Manchanda teahouse and he hoped the same to continue, until she would come to sit by him to have a chai and agree to his enduring attempts to claim her to his own motives.
It took a good few minutes for the young man to cheer up while he reminded himself of all that he and his organization stood for. There was nothing to be ashamed of his indecent persistence, he concluded as he came back with the right response to Manchanda's sincere appeal.
"Lekin Manchandaji...haqeeqat har roz badal ta hain..." he said with a convincing smile as he got up to pat Manchanda on his shoulder and led him back to the counter.
"Deklije ga...ek din woh zaroor aake mere saath chai piyegi.." he said as he walked backwards to sit by the same grainy wooden table.
***
Back at the rooftop, Geet sank to the floor in the kitchen. The overwhelming emotions crushed her. How could she have forgotten to wear her veil? She had religiously covered her face all through the time she had spent with him and now she had appeared in front of him without her dupatta. She knew well, that piece of cloth did nothing to hide the Geet inside her and was never intended to tempt him for more of her. Only she knew that the veil was a constant reminder for her to remain Chandini to him.
She was Geet with him; her wants had come alive with his presence. He was indeed the one man she had voluntarily shared her bed with and had wanted to...her mind spited her heart for craving such blasphemy.
Geet closed her eyes while she relived those dispensable moments with Maan, in the bathroom, as a sharp pain shot inside her. She tried hard not live through that caress on her cheek. But the actual moment had laid foundations of a hope that was forbidden. Now she knew the want that bubbled in him; something that lay beyond his control and had dragged him to her.
For a second, she had to make believe that it really was Maan Singh Khurana who had exposed weakness of a physical nature. From all that Dev had told her, she had concluded that he was nature's mistake in mankind. She knew well, he had never sought another woman in all of 4 years; not since he had returned from UK. So how was she to process those close encounters? If all these were not enough reason for the chaos she felt inside her, there was another part that felt she had lost to him. Oddly for once she needed him more than he did. It had never been the case with Geet. Men needed her and they came to her; she was simply to take them in, shelter their physical hungers, and very rarely entertain their unnecessary banter. But now she yearned to share all her thoughts with Maan and in turn she wanted him to feed her desires. The ones she thought she would never have. Not fair she thought.
What was more hellish? She asked herself. Lives were they said they had love and lived without one or one where there was no life to live and yet there was some strange affection for a stranger? When she had thought she had seen it all, now here he was, hugging her and caressing her cheek.
Its not true that she did not dream of her prince in shining armor to come rescue her from her towers...but when the tower was rooftop and the dragon was her inner demons, did the prince really know what he was battling?
"Argh" the painful whimper jolted Geet out of her thoughts, making her pick up a run as she dashed across the room. She saw him toss and turn in discomfort as she kneeled on the floor, right by the head of the bed frame.
"Aap teek tho hain Maan?" She questioned as she felt his blazing forehead. Fear for his health and comfort gripped her even when she had no in-depth medical knowledge to assess his medical condition, but certain she was that fever never was no good news; not for a bruised and fractured Maan.
In those tender moments as Maan had closed his distance to hold Geet by her waist, he had felt all the blood drain from in him in spitting seconds. It sure was a time he had lost reigns over him, his unyielding control and had gone astray in her mesmerizing spell of a laughter, but both had missed out on the bluish black patch by the side of his lowers ribs that was splotched in plain view. Maan's eyes had spiraled and his feet had given up on him as he hit the wall behind him and had foundered on the wet floor. The anxiety over the intrusion that morning had made his body go haywire from all the tension that coursed through his body. The careless run to the bathroom and the stiffened stance behind the door had plundered the little healing his body had resolved for him by his broken rib and he was now in a position much worse than the Maan who had made his way to her room that blast night.
With little help from Maan, she had dragged him to the bed again and had tried waking him up from the senseless state he was rolling into. But he had winced in pain at times and proved to be insentient to her calling and tapping of his cheek by her. She had no phone, or no one to call for, making her vexation penetrate her nerves to wallow herself in the same torture as he was in.
An hour had passed and this was the first time he had called out in a pang of discomfort.
"Argh..." He once again cried in a deep ache leaving her edgy.
There was no time to lose and she knew she had to get out of rooftop to call for Dev. The opportunity had presented itself when Shasha had showed up at her doorstep and she knew exactly how to slide through the open gaps to call Dev's cellphone. As she mentally ran through all that she would say to the guarding men, another truth hit her dream of a world, launching her in a fit of agony and misery. Tumbling down in her own mind and literally to the cold floor, a pressing need to touch and hold his hand came into her being. And so she did as she tightly held his hand in hers and uttered a silent prayer; a prayer for his welfare in a world far more wretched than hers.
She knew it was time for him to go. The day had arrived much sooner than it was meant to be.
No cussing please. I know its been a real long time...but I will update more often going forward. Thank you all so much for the long comments. It really does pull me again and again to check up on how the thread plays out after each update...so pull me in with more comments.
comment:
p_commentcount