Snip snap.
Snip snap, the black scissors cut their way, meticulously through the glossy paper of the Business Daily magazine. The picture of a very handsome man, an aristocratic face, and lips pressed into a thin line and bearing the aura of ruthlessness landed gingerly on the magenta bed cover that was already overflowing with almost fifty such pictures and articles of the very same man.
---
Aashna sat cross-legged on the plush single bed, surrounded by images, cut-outs from newspapers, as her hands worked on sticking one of the many onto the red pastel sheets sprawled on the teak table next to the bed. This semester's project would take a hell lot of time, she thought skeptically. 'If only I could get an interview with this man, no one could beat me this year, she muttered loudly to herself, scraping away the dried glue from her fingers.
'An interview with whom, Aashna?' A tinkling voice streamed into the room, bubbling with veiled laughter.
---
'An interview with whom, Aashna?' Khushi called out to her only daughter, walking towards her room.
But Khushi stopped right before Aashna's room, a little too abruptly, the dainty plate of jalebies threatening to empty its contents onto the wooden floorboards.
People would laugh if they knew that a mother was scared to enter her own daughter's room. But that's how it was. That's how it had been since the eventful July evening, a year ago.
The tall green gates of the Aasha School, Dehradun, were about to open, as soon as the town clock would strike two. Khushi waited outside the school for her eleven year old daughter near a sweet shop, munching on the syrupy jalebies.
The July afternoons were oddly pleasant at Dehradun, unlike Delhi. Grey clouds hovering overhead all day, threatening to pour at any given time. Khushi shuffled with umbrella, as the running image of her daughter approached her.
"Ma," Aashna hugged her mother tightly, her hands wrapped around her waist."Aashna, what happened?" Khushi inquired softly, never quite understanding her daughter's emotional dynamics. Much like... him, she thought.
But as Aashna, grabbed away the plate of jalebies from her, smiling widely, Khushi's instinctive worry subsided all of a sudden.
Her daughter was beautiful, one of a kind. Long ebony hair, much like her own, braided sideways, hung demurely over the white of her school uniform. She had porcelain skin, again like Khushi's. And her face, spoke of a veiled naivety, yet sheer determination. But her eyes were the most striking. They were the one thing, that didn't match her mother's at all. They were the deepest of browns, a pure bistre, with flecks of golden. Much different from Khushi's hazel iris. And that changed the entire contours of her face. Because when one looked into her eyes, they saw bubbling honesty, yet masked by layers of secrets. One could see the love, but curtained by duty. She was to say, an enigma of sorts.
Aashna continued to savor the jalebies from the silver paper plate, walking down towards the DDA apartments. She went on babbling about her annoying teachers, impending assignments, as Khushi intervened with soft pats on her head, ushering her inside the apartment.
"...and there's this new girl in our section Ma...Devi Mayyian ki kasam, she is such a snob, I tell you'" Aashna skittered away into her room, as Khushi followed, laughing silently at her daughter's antics.
"You seem extra happy today Aashna, anything special?" Khushi prodded on. "You always know Ma...anyways, guess who came to our school today?"
---
That day, a year later, today, she was still scared to enter Aashna's room, because as soon as she would enter, she would be greeted by pictures of him. The same eyes that haunted her dreams, would mock at her every time she entered that room. Why?
Because, the man whose one look, one word, one touch would still send shivers down Khushi's spine, was her daughter's idol. Her daughter wanted to be like him, a workaholic, talk like him, the way that never gave too much away, think like him, the way no other normal person ever would. And since that July evening, seven years ago, her daughter would cut away all pictures, articles, news clippings she could find around her, sit in front of the TV every night at eight, eyes glued to the Times Business channel, awaiting any news of him, or his ever growing business empire.
Coincidence or a twist of fate, Khushi mused.
---
Khushi, pushed open the door, attuned to the soft creaking noise it made, every time it was opened or closed. She trained her eyes onto the floor, not wanting to look across the walls that were strewn by his images, as she placed the plate of jalebies on the bedside table.
'An interview with whom Aashna?' Khushi asked again, stacking away the many sheets of paper that lay all over the floor.
'Arre who else do you think Ma? Him, of course. It's just that he has been so elusive these last eighteen years, that there is absolutely nothing new in any of these magazines or newspapers. They all keep repeating the same stuff, over and over again. Maybe I should email him, with some questions. What do you think Ma?' Aashna heard a small 'Oh' from behind, as she turned around to face her mother, who looked slightly baffled.
'Jalebies, again? What have you been thinking about Ma?' Aashna asked, picking up one steaming hot orange blob from the plate. 'Nothing Aashna. Nanheji loves them, remember?' Khushi had barely uttered those words, that Aashna practically jumped from the bed, sending the newspapers behind her flying in every direction.
'NK is coming back today na? What time does his flight land Ma? We should get going to the airport, right?' Aashna chatted away, clutching her mother's arms in excitement. 'Will you let me speak? We'll be leaving in around an hour, but you need to get into something decent first. Okay?' Khushi replied warmly, eyeing the glue stained sweater that hung off Aashna's shoulders.
---
'Khushiji, there's someone with me, a guest. I hope you don't mind?'
'No, no Nanheji, it's completely fine. Your Aashna is dying to meet you. I hope the flight's not delayed.'
'I'm dying to meet Aashu too. It might be delayed, looking at the frequent rains storming Dehradun.'
'Chalo, bye.'
Khushi placed the receiver back on the telephone stand, calling out to Aashna, 'Your NK called, he will be coming with a guest today. Are you ready yet?'
'Guest, who?' Aashna asked, as she saw her mother shaking her head, '...didn't ask'. ' 'Why do you never ask anything, Ma?' Aashna asked patronizingly, tying the dirty laces of her sneakers, as Khushi simply shrugged.
---
A/N: This story is inspired by a Bengali movie, Titli, meaning Butterfly. Those who haven't seen it, well, they should, to those who have, I'll be having my wicked way with the story. đ
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