Cherished Wounds#2 NOTE Pg 66 - Page 9

"I don't know what they are called, the spaces between seconds' but I think of you always in those intervals."

Salvador Plascencia, The People of Paper

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An extremely long epoch of what the people aptly called as a difficult time, had been waging its way through India. Another war had started in Europe. People, both young and old, had taken up the struggle for India's independence. Lives were risked every day for the sake of their country. So when Shashi told Khushi, that he wanted to leave for India and join his people there, she didn't bat an eyelid. Her father, before leaving India and coming to Jammu, had been a farmer, a cotton grower, and that too a very successful one. But that was eons ago. As of today, those very same cotton growers were the people who suffered the most, since the British had started importing machine-spun thread from Manchester. And that was the cloth that the cloth mills preferred. As the days passed, more Indian natives lost their life not due to the ongoing battle, but more due to the lack of two square meals, Shashi told his silent daughter, as she nodded mutely.

"See Khushi, I'm going to Kolkata only, and you'll be joining me there after a few more weeks," Shashi tried to convince his daughter, with his carefully executed words.

"I know. That's all right, it's just Payal I'm worried about. With the surgery...," Khushi wandered off with her string of thoughts as Shashi continued with stifling patience.

"She'll be all right Khushi. And you'll be there to take care of her. It's all going to be okay," Shashi reassured her unbeknownst to the fact that Khushi's insides were shriveling up with unusual anxiety to let go of her father.

Two days later when he left, Khushi sat near Payal's stretcher in the hospital, letting the dull grey of the evening, engulf her unbridled despair.

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Certain events, very simple in their execution, after Shashi left, occurred in the Valley that bore the potential of changing, many people's life drastically. Of course, none of them would realize it until much later. But Khushi would be reflecting on those events, as she headed off for Kolkata, sitting in a lonely compartment on the speeding train.

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This particular event happened a week after Shashi's departure. Khushi had tried to immerse herself in work, trying to ebb away her solicitude. Since, there were no more patients to be attended, she sat by one of the windowsills, looking out to the glistening peaks, as her fingers drew incognito patterns over the beige curtains.

Seconds later, she felt a very familiar touch gliding up her back, making its way under her pistachio green kurta.

"Arnav...what?" Khushi tried to turn to face him, but couldn't move an inch due to his arm encircling her waist avariciously.

"What...?" Arnav mumbled, looking up slightly from the sallow span of her neck. His lips moved over her jaw, turning her around suddenly, claiming her lips. But sensing resistance, he stopped, stepping back for a mere second.

"What are you doing Arnav? We're in the hospital and I'm... I'm busy..." As soon as she had uttered the word busy, her face had been claimed by Arnav and how.

Evanescent kisses rained down all over her face, as his fingers weaved their way through her hair. "You are not busy Khushi, and I'm just trying to put you out of your misery by ..." The rest of the sentence was effectively drowned by an inebriating kiss, as his hands roved all over her body, as if he was trying to imprint on his mind forever, each niche of her lissome figure, memorize the rhythmic rise and fall of her bosom, as he spoke seconds later.

"You are leaving in a day Khushi, I want to be with you..."

Almost abruptly, he pulled her to himself, in a crushing embrace. "What will I do without you...?" Khushi's hands instinctively went through his hair, as she placed trembling kisses onto his neck. They stood like that for a few long minutes, calling on their mind memories of the past weeks, until their shadows coagulated deep and cold around them. Their eyes were clenched shut, their mingled breaths held, as they both felt a sudden emptiness descend upon them, as soon as they parted on hearing the peon's voice resound through the deserted ER.

"There's someone here to meet you Doctor."

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When the sweet, smiling face of a woman, adorned in a snug cotton saree, a thin maroon shawl wrapped around her shoulders greeted Khushi warmly, pulling her into her arms, in the isolated corridors of the hospital, a few events occurred, almost in a blur.

Khushi was roughly yanked away from the woman's embrace, onto the reception desk, by a seething Arnav. His calloused fingers probed her arms, leaving, marks that would later, after many long years, be cherished. The brown of his eyes, held a pained look, brewing with flecks of fury. A few sentences and brutal declarations were delivered moments later with a sense of overwhelming brutality to them. Khushi would of course ponder over them, years later.

"All this time...all this time, Khushi...and you never told me..."

"You knew her...this woman...and didn't bother to once let me know..."

Moments of trammeling silence roared through the doorway. His fingers dug deeper, her skin reddened, a few shades darker.

"Leave Khushi...now...I don't ever want to see your face again...just go..."

After what seemed like hours, the trembling body of Arnav, raging venom lacing his face, was dragged away by Anjali, leaving an appalled Khushi leaning across the reception desk, for support, lest her knees gave her away.

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From the corner of her eye, Khushi caught a white movement. It was snowing. She scampered into the verandah, drawing her breath in, at the silver marvel of the scene that was unfolding in front of her. The soft flakes fell against her face. It was cold, ice-cold, freezing, as she felt the insides of her nostrils ossifying. The air, which suddenly smelled of icy metal, seemed to carve a benumbing path all the way into her chest.

Leave Khushi.

I don't ever want to see your face again.

But Khushi didn't go back inside to the warmth of the empty corridors of the hospital. She watched with renewed admiration, as the snow slowly covered up the dirty stone sidewalks, the sad warped littorals of the rooftops, softening, in its ministrations, the rough edges of things.

I love you.

She held out her hands to the falling snow, shivering a little. The snow fell on them relentlessly, congealing, stinging all the way to the bone. But after a while, Khushi felt the afflicting pain fade away.

When she finally looked down, she noticed that the snow had covered her hands completely. Years later, Khushi would wonder with more understanding, that beauty and pain were a part of each other.

She had noticed, however, that her hands didn't hurt at all, even after standing for about almost twenty minutes, under the torrents of snow.

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Another wondrous miracle occurred the very next morning, Khushi's last morning in Kashmir. Aakash had called her to the hospital, even though she had the day off from work, at about six in the morning. The snowfall had not ceased to stop, as Khushi trudged down the cobblestone pathways, her feet slowed down by the thick layers of snow.

"Aakash, why do you need me right in the morn...,"The rest of her words etiolated into nothingness, as her eyes witnessed the sight in front of her.

Payal, was smiling, looking up at her. She was seated on a wheelchair, as Khushi watched a few tears spill from her eyes, glistening her sallow cheeks, but she couldn't miss the unbridled happiness clouding the eyes of her beautiful sister.

"Is she...is she fine?" Khushi managed to stammer a few coherent words, directed at a beaming Aakash, standing next to the wheelchair.

"No, more than fine. I think she might be able to walk...properly..." The rest of his words were drowned in a tight hug, as Khushi pulled him closer for about a second, before enveloping her sister into her trembling arms. Aakash watched with adoration, as Payal's face was showered with Khushi's fleeting kisses, both their faces streaked with lustrous joy.

"It's been a long time since she's been stuck up here, I thought, maybe we could take her out somewhere...you want to come?" Khushi had immediately embraced Aakash in yet another clumsy hug, placing a sloppy kiss on his forehead, muttering a small yes to a highly flustered Aakash.

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The skies, a bruised blue, with specks of cardinal red, looked down upon an army jeep speeding through the winding charcoal roads leading to Srinagar. Payal was seated comfortably in the front seat with a stone-faced Arnav, who seemed to be clenching the steering wheel's leather cover, every time the tinkling sound of the infectious bouts of laughter from the backseat of the jeep seemed to knock at his ears. Khushi had ignored him, very effectively, since the moment she had stepped into the jeep with Aakash, and it was perceived by Arnav that she didn't give two hoots about his presence in the car. Arnav kept glancing at the rearview mirror, annoyed at the very scene of her laughing openly, with a highly bemused Aakash sitting across her. Khushi kept up the tirade of her rambling chatter right till the jeep halted, somewhere in the shoreline of the Dal Lake.

Aakash sauntered about the wheelchair around the rows of Chinar trees, as the four stood along the shoreline, surrounded by tons of houseboats all loaded with daily supplies. The air scented of fresh salt, hovering over the asparagus green waters, with the lily pads floating lazily around the lake. The faint strains of filtered light from the leaves dappled the lake, giving it an ethereal glow with the snow laden Himalayas surrounding the lake in all their glory.

Khushi watched with peaking concentration, as Aakash, entwined his fingers with Payal, encircling her shoulders, providing support to her back, as she attempted to stand. And then as the sunlight bounced off the metallic handles of the wheelchair, falling on their faces, she smiled, and walked, incongruously. Payal shrugged of her kolhapuris, and her feet edged forward in muffled steps, till they finally halted as her bare skin came in contact with the icy ripples of the water.

Khushi's face, it seemed to Arnav, insinuated of effulgence that was beyond comprehension. Probably, he thought, he had never seen her look so beautiful, so much at peace. The cool breeze wandered through her hair, brushing off a few strands against his face. And then, he felt her nimble fingers envelop his wrist so suddenly, that it sent shivers down his veins, like pinpoints of frigid flames. He looked down, to his side, and saw her hand, move slightly lower from his wrists, as she entwined her fingers with him. And Arnav realized that, Khushi was too lost in the scene before her to even notice when her hands had slid into his.

But she did turn, almost abruptly, her eyes clashing with his pools of molten bistre. And almost immediately, she avulsed her hand away from his, taking a step towards Payal and Aakash. But Arnav's unrelenting hands, tugged at her wrists, pulling her flush against him, his eyes giving away his frustration. Then he unceremoniously, dragged her away from the shore, pushing her willowy figure into a kaleidoscopic shikara.

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Khushi slid to the ground, falling clumsily onto a colorful mattress against a pile of cushions. Arnav sat down across her, leaning against the rosewood furnishings of the impeccable shikara. Anxiously Khushi's eyes imbued his face but it gave away nothing. His arms awkwardly opened for her, and without so much as a second of hesitation, she slipped into the warmth they offered. Against her, he trembled. "Forgive me..."

Khushi breathed in deeply, the musk he emanated, listening to his heartbeat. It ambled, like hers, conveying to her more than words ever could, his breath, scorching and jagged, fanned her cheeks into familiar warmth. Khushi kissed the crumpled pocket of his blue shirt. She couldn't find words to say anything, and nor was there a need for them.

"I hurt you..." Arnav murmured onto her hair, his voice quivering with guilt. "I made you cry, so many times. Can you forgive me?"

"Yes," Khushi mumbled back asininely, not listening to what he had asked, or what she had answered.

"Yes...," Khushi shook her head, inhaling the scent of his skin pressed against her face as the distress of the past day, liquefied into dizzying happiness. Arnav planted small, feverish kisses over her temples, along her neck making her shiver slightly. "I didn't even tell you...and...," Arnav mumbled as Khushi interuppted, "...then tell me now..." He shook his head, "...you wouldn't understand..." as she almost cried out with escalating frustration, "...then make me Arnav..." It wounded Khushi to see his eyes shimmering with pain that she couldn't take away. She watched with apprehension as his eyes fell, once again, into deep pits of camouflaged silences from which she had been ruthlessly excluded since the moment she had met him. Khushi watched helpless, looking for a crack, a fissure to enter into the confines of his mind, but there was none.

"Khushi...," he sighed deeply, before continuing." I can't tell you in enough words, how much you mean to me. You came into my life, uninvited, unasked, like an untimely rain, gratifying in its magnitude to surprise, unsettling everything in its wake. You make me feel relegated, defenseless. I feel disturbed at having to battle against a force that is completely strange to me. How will I ever live without you Khushi?"

Khushi listened, unaware that she wasn't breathing and seconds later she exhaled cautiously. But what he connoted filled her heart with aching joy. "Is it necessary to...to battle?" She ran her hand through his hair and felt him, leaning his head across her forehead. The sun ruptured through the clouds and showered her with radiance again. She yearned for him, his embrace, the taste of his lips, but she coerced herself to be satisfied with his presence, so close to her.

"Why are you still here Khushi? Why do you tolerate me after everything I do, say? Why are you...so...so stubborn? "Khushi realized... Arnav had tears in his eyes. And she couldn't stop hers from spilling over too. "This stubbornness is called...called love."

"It's not possible to love someone like me Khushi. It's probably...a mirage, an illusion of your mind." Arnav ranted incoherently. "Why do you never take me seriously...?" Khushi mumbled, turning away from him. And immediately, he broke into a rumbling laugh, filling his face and hers with opulent amusement. His hands slipped down to her waist, drawing her close to him yet again. He kissed her behind her ear, with perpetual desire. "You are so stubborn Khushi," he breathed heavily, "and you make it impossible for me stay away from you."

"Why would you want to?" Khushi mumbled onto his chest, reveling in his disintegrating facades, in her strength to enter the deep recesses of his confusing mind, the answer to that question, almost immaterial to her. But Arnav answered her nonetheless. "Because I'm not used to being demanded from. " Khushi pulled back abruptly. "When have I ever demanded anything from you?" Arnav placed a fleeting kiss on her parted lips, before continuing."You demand, every time you look at me, with every touch, every second that I think of you. "You demand," he ended with another kiss, "because I want you more than any woman I've ever known." And with that hasty declaration, she was pulled into yet another crushing embrace, cruel and yet scenting of infinite sweetness. In the moist confines of his lips, there was guilt, but to Khushi, every touch was filled with enchanting magic, as the scenes from every dream she dreamt of him, played out in front of her. Bizarre sensations surged through her veins, each conflicting the other, agitating, yet exquisite. His lips trailed scorching kisses across her face, her eyes, her neck, edging lower still. His fingers, mastered with the art of inciting her into willful rebellion, roved about her body etching rousing caresses.

"You are naive Khushi ...maybe stupid too. And terribly stubborn..." Arnav touched her face with enthralling tenderness, his fingers trembling over her lips, as he continued. "But yes, I do love you."

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