6 Months Later
The NSD campus was its magnificent best that day. Royal blue banners, bidding adieu to the students that would be graduating that year, adorned the sun-baked walls of the whole building. After a very polite denial by a certain Mr. Raizada, the Dean had to invite a member of the Ministry of Education to solicit his presence in the campus as the Chief Guest.
---
Khushi put on the first pair of denims she could find before her, and a grey knit sweater followed.
The winter had taken its toll in Delhi. December was a beautiful month. Khushi loved it. The sky that was more or less always painted in grey hues with the sun visiting every once in a while. She loved how the coffee tasted against the chilling breeze. And finally she was graduating.
She didn't know exactly why, but she felt immensely happy that day. Maybe not happy, but content. Maybe it was because she would finally after such a long gap be visiting Ajay and Shalu, maybe because only two more chemo sessions in the next two months were left and there was a fair chance, hope that she might actually have a chance to live a few more years, if not days. Or maybe it was this subconscious decision at the back of her head, that she would go and visit him after almost six long months.
---
In those six months, approximately one hundred and eighty days, Arnav Singh Raizada's life had changed drastically. He had drowned himself completely in work, contracts, business deals, buying companies and what not. Simply so that he could not give his mind a second's gap to think the obvious. But he was no God, no supernatural being. In the nights, the very moment his eyes closed and his head touched the fresh bed sheets, her images, her eyes, her smile, her face flooded his mind. And that too familiar ache surged through his body like a violent tide.
Those were the hours when he would simply walk out of his room, head to his little makeshift studio in the basement and let his fingers attack the cold pressed canvas sheets with the charcoal pencils like a maniac at work. No one was allowed to enter that room. It was an unspoken rule. But almost all the occupants of Shantivan knew why. Because that room, all the paintings lodged there were a window to the numerous memories, the pain, the love, the hurt that the people who were the most important in his life had given him. And so he drew, venting out the unspoken thoughts, words, everything, till the wee hours of the morning, till his hands would finally give up.
But had someone entered his studio, they would have been greeted by paintings of one particular woman who had been a recent addition to the plethora of the other paintings. Some sheets occupied only by a pair of eyes, the hidden laughter, the hidden hesitation lurking in them. The others were of her face, serene, ethereal, as her hair softly played on the nape of her neck. Some paintings had a man too, standing with that woman, holding her in a tight embrace, under a stormy sky, in the rain.
---
Khushi stared long and hard at her ancient Nokia handset, her fingers touching it for a few brief seconds and then pulling back suddenly. Her mind seemed to be having a debate of its own, to call or not. She didn't know why, but she had this urge to hear his voice that day. She was leaving the campus, the very place that held all her memories of him, of them. She thought to herself, just one second, no three, okay just ten and then she would cut the line. Her shaky hands finally gripped the mobile tightly and her finger punched in a few digits simultaneously, as she waited with bated breath.
It never came. His voice, a Hello or a Hi, nothing. It was directed to voicemail after a few seconds. But Khushi was lucky. Even if it was recorded, it was still him, his very own deep, husky voice.
'Arnav Singh Raizada here. Please leave a message. I'll get back in touch as soon as possible.'
If someone had been watching Khushi closely for the past few months, they would have seen a beautiful, yet miraculous sight. Her once pale face, her slight, petite frame that had shrunk, her hunched shoulders, almost the lifeless demeanor of hers was in about a matter of few seconds, transformed, as a slow, lazy smile hit her lips. A warm glow enveloped her face. Almost as if an invisible force had blown the very essence of life back into her body.
Khushi broke her own rules and called him again.
'Arnav Singh Raizada here. Please leave a message. I'll get back in touch as soon as possible.'
---
Arnav walked out of the conference room after lashing out at a bunch of London delegates for no particular reason at all. Walking into his cabin, he landed himself onto the plush chair as his eyes darted to this phone.
Two missed calls from an unknown number. For a split second, he almost thought of Khushi, but immediately dismissed the idea. But his treacherous mind had already entered the forbidden zone. It had reached Khushi, something it had been denied for far too long. He wondered to himself as to why he had given her his number without bothering to ask for hers. He never forgot anything. But with her exceptions entered the common ground. She couldn't possibly have called him, not after six bloody months, he thought hard trying to put to rest his overworking brain.
---
Khushi entered the studio, like she had every day since the day he had left. It was a routine, a habit she wasn't yet ready to let go of. She liked the dust that hovered in the damp heady air surrounding the studio. She went and sat on the stool before the huge windows, looking at the campus. She looked around the studio. Barring a few cobwebs and more layers of dust, everything was the same. The tap still leaked. The brushes, the sheets and watercolor tubes still lay in the exact same position as they had been the last day when he had left. It seemed to her that it was only yesterday, they both were there in the very same room, talking unknown of the future.
A song crept up to her mind suddenly. She used to sing it with Shalini when Ajay would be out of town, teasing her at times, but mostly because she just liked to hum it along with the sound flowing out of the radio.
I miss the years that were erased.
I miss the way the sunshine would light up your face.
I miss all the little things.
I never thought they would mean everything to me.
Yeah I miss you.
And I wish you were here.
She kept humming, as her voice came out in hoarse breaks, in between the soft sobs. She made her way out of the campus in a very deliberate, slow pace.
---
'Chotte, I was thinking of a double wedding. What do think?'
'A double wedding? What in the world--?'
'Aakash and Payal, and you and Lavanya.'
'Di, Aakash is getting married next month. And I want it to happen smoothly. Okay?'
'I know. But you---?'
'Di, you wanted me to move on. I listened. Lavanya is my fianc now and hopefully we'll get married someday in near future. But definitely not next month.'
'But if you do want to get married, then why not next month?'
'Because…'
'Because?'
'Because….well….'
'Because Chotte, you still think that someday, she would just turn up at our doors and fall into your arms. Isn't it? Because you still love her. Because you still haven't moved on. Right? But that is never going---'
'No Di. Because Lavanya has a job. She is an architect. She supports her family financially. I can't just ask her to drop everything and marry me. That is the only reason.'
Anjali watched her brother walk back into his room, and as much as he tried to control his anger by turning on his expressionless face towards her, the loud bang when the doors of his room closed, gave away the pretense. The day she had seen Arnav comeback, drunk and broken, she knew Khushi wouldn't have told him anything. Because if she had, her brother would have never comeback. Because unlike everyone else she knew that he was a fighter. He would die to save the people he loved. Three months into her brother's relationship with Lavanya, he had seen no change in him. No signs of love, or even tenderness, nothing. Empty, void.
---
Lyrics taken from the song by LIfehouse- From Where You Are
Itti Si Khushi Sab TV
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