Aman stared into the darkening horizon as the sun slowly set down, the brightness disappearing along with it as darkness started to reign over the entire city. Red hues ranging from the pale red to the blood crimson were painted over the skies, symbolic of the bloodshed that would soon follow if he didn't act soon.
He smudged the butt of the cigarette on the ground he was sitting upon, and leaning back his body with the support of his arms and hunching his shoulders, he stared into the oblivion, as the memories flooded into his mind.
As the early rays of sunlight streaked the dawn, the little boy awoke to the faints sounds of the people getting ready to get down at the next station. And it was then that he realised that he had finally reached Delhi which was nothing less than a dream for a boy like him. He slowly crawled from beneath the wooden seat he had been hiding under for the past few hours.
He had no choice. He did not have a single penny in his pockets.
All he knew was that he had to come to Delhi and thus when the train had reached his village station a few hours after dusk, he had sneaked into it without anyone noticing.
Who would have noticed anyways? He was malnourished and underweight and anyone would have mistaken the thirteen year old boy to be barely nine. With his skinny hands and legs and flexibility acquired all through his life after spending his life in the fields, he had managed to curl himself up like a ball and hide himself under the wooden seat of the general compartment of the train.
As he had crawled out, all the eyes around him had suddenly diverted their attention to him. But nobody had said anything. Maybe they had been too shocked to see a boy in a pitiable condition like this and thus, they simply ignored him.
He had hopped towards the window and looking out, he had smelt the air of Delhi, filling his lungs with it as the harsh cold wind slapped his face.
There was no denying he was dead scared of what was going to come next. He had known nothing about the city. But all he knew was that it was better than his village, where his family was dying of poverty.
His throat constricted as he remembered the family that he had left behind, his father, his mother, his four other siblings, especially his youngest baby sister who was no older than a year. Even though the whole family lived in a small hut or that he had spent the last ten years of his life working in the fields instead of going to school, he hadn't complained of anything in life.
He had been taught to work very hard in his life by his parents.
But in the last one year, things had become worse. Their village had been affected by drought and the whole crop for the year had been destroyed and due to this, they had to sell off the small piece of land they owned to repay the farming loans his father had borrowed. This had rendered them with no source of food or income forcing the parents and the young children to go off in search of work to nearby villages.
But it was easier said than done. Cruel people had taken advantage of their helplessness and exploited them without paying their wages. And his family had been reduced to go to bed on hungry stomach every alternate day.
And then slowly, one by one, his siblings had started to fall sick without proper nourishment, especially his youngest sister who had been pushed to the verge of death.
Aman had done everything to help his family. He had given up his food entirely, only surviving on water to let his other younger siblings have food.
And then, it had reached a point where he could no longer take the helplessness that poverty had forced down his throat. It was then he had decided to move out of the village, away from this poverty and do something to help out his family. After hearing many stories about Delhi, he had decided to go there instead of seeing his siblings die in front of his eyes.
And now, the little Aman had finally stepped into the city of Delhi as the train finally came to a halt on the platform.
Looking all around him, he could only see people, moving like herds of cattle, pushing him along with them. The whole commotion itself had been so overwhelming for a village boy like him. It had been as if his entire village had gathered in that one railway station.
He had nothing in his hands. All that he had were the pair of tattered clothes he had worn. No shoes on his feet either. And he had stared helplessly at all the people around him, not knowing what else to do. From a nearby stall, he could smell the hot tea being poured into the tiny glasses and the bread being heated on the pan. It had been three days since he had last eaten anything and now, his stomach was growling with hunger. But all he could do was stare desperately at the food being served, hoping that someone would throw away something in the dustbin.
Indeed, some woman had thrown away the leftovers of the food into the dustbin nearby, but before Aman could reach it, he observed a huge pile of children running towards it, fighting for it and it was then, Aman had realised that there were plenty other children like him, destitute and hungry.
He had approached them, only to be shunned away by them. Only later had he realised that they did it because they saw him as a competitor for those scraps of food.
Still, Aman had not given up. He knew that this city was the only way out to solve his family's miseries. And in the moment of the helplessness, he had remembered his mother's words and began chanting the Hanuman Chalisa, to show him the right path and give him the strength to endure anything that was going to come his way. And with that, he had stepped out of the station, onto the roads as cars sped on either side of him.
Aman focussed on the present as the sky became another shade darker and tiny lights began to spring up in the houses, trying to extinguish away the darkness that was engulfing it.
It had been three days since he had arrived to Delhi. And he had still not managed to eat anything. He had approached people to give him some job, but they had only shooed him away, scared by his malnourished appearance, as if he was a mere dying crow. The city was too fast for him to catch up and it was very easy for him to get lost in the wild concrete jungle.
With his stomach desperately growling with hunger, threatening to put him down any minute, his eyes had finally wandered to a loaf of bread that was peeking out from the corner of a shop. He had stared at it eagerly, licking his dry lips, but somewhere his inner conscious had even reminded him not to steal.
But the hunger was too strong to subside and eventually it had taken over, tempting him and without any hesitation, he had run to the shop and snatched the bread and run off. He had heard screams and footsteps as the owner chased after him. That day, Aman had run like never before. He didn't care where he was going. All he knew was that he had to get away from the man who was chasing him.
However, his body hadn't supported him when he needed it the most, due to being starved for nearly a week and thus, Aman had collapsed on the hard ground splitting his upper lip in the process. And soon, the owner had caught up and without any warning, had snatched away the bread and started kicking him in the gut.
He had felt his whole body go numb with the assault on his fragile skeleton, as low whimpers escaped from his mouth, with no energy left in him. He had thought he was going to die.
Until...
Until, all of a sudden the assault had stopped and slowly opening his eyes, he had noticed a figure looming over his body with what seemed to be a gun in his hand and that gun was pointed directly on the head of the man who had assaulted him.
"Leave him if you want to see another day." The voice had warned and Aman had realised that it was a young voice. "Run!" he had growled dangerously and the man had run off for his life in the direction he had come.
Aman had slowly straightened himself up and crawled away from the figure, scared of the gun in his hand.
"Don't kill me." He had managed to beg, in a low whisper.
"It's alright. Don't be scared." That voice had said and soon, his face had become clearer and Aman realised that the boy was not much older to him. However, he was healthy and strong and in a much better position than him. Soon, that boy had held out his hand and helped him stand up on his feet.
"Are you new to this place?" he had asked and Aman had silently nodded his head. "Are you hungry?" that boy had asked once again and Aman had nodded like the first time. "Come with me." He had said and Aman had silently followed.
He had been led to a small house in the outskirts of the city and entering it, he had noticed many men around him, all of them having similar guns poking out from their pockets.
"Don't worry about them." The other boy had said when he had noticed Aman rooted to the ground in fright and pulling him along, he had led him to the kitchen.
"Eat whatever you want." The boy had said, taking out a plate from the rack and offering it to Aman.
Aman had hesitated for a minute, but after a silent reassurance from the other boy, he had gone ahead and helped himself with all the dishes available, nearly gobbling every bit of it.
"You know, you will vomit it back at night if you eat at this pace." The other boy had said, sitting across him, staring at him while Aman licked his fingers. But Aman had not bothered. He had eaten food like this after a very long time. No, he had never eaten so much food before and thus, he had eaten until he had dropped down exhausted on the floor.
Only later in the night, he had realised that the boy was indeed right when he began throwing up in the toilet.
"I think I need to leave." Aman had announced after seeing everyone in the house retire for the night.
"Where will you go? Do you know anyone out there?" the other boy had asked curiously.
"No, But I used to sleep on the streets. I found one nice place near the bridge. Although mosquitoes bite me the entire night, no one will find me out." Aman had replied ready to leave. "And thank you." He had said with the utmost gratefulness in his eyes.
"You can stay with me if you want." The other boy had offered.
"No, I'm dirty and stinking and I have no clothes. This house is so clean. I cannot stay here." Aman had replied embarrassed at himself.
"That won't be a problem." The other boy had said and dragged him to his room upstairs. Proceeding to a trunk, the other boy had rummaged through it and finally retrieved out a pair of clothes. "You can wear this. It's mine, although it might be loose for you. You can use the belt around your waist to support these pants." He said offering the clothes to Aman. "I don't have an extra bed, but I have this mattress for you. Hope you don't mind sleeping on the floor." The other boy had continued.
And Aman had smiled, completely stunned like a kid who was being offered his favourite candy.
"Now, don't waste your time. You do stink. So go and get yourself cleaned up." The other boy had ordered and Aman had gleefully rushed to the bathroom.
Aman's eyes focussed on the tiny stars that slowly appeared on the dark sky, twinkling with glee and he heard the last of the birds making their way back to their nests.
"Bhaiyya, I realised that I never really told you my name. I'm Aman Singh. What's your name?" Aman had asked sitting on the floor while the other boy polished his gun with a cloth. The boy had stared at Aman silently for some time until he had finally spoken in a hoarse voice.
"I'm Arnav." The other boy had declared, keeping his gun inside. Aman had realised by now that the other boy spoke very less and in one liner and only when needed.
"Arnav what?" Aman had asked raising his eyebrow, trying to figure out if the boy was belonging to his region.
"Nothing, Just Arnav." He had replied.
"How can it be possible? Don't you have a surname or your father's name?" Aman had asked back curiously.
"No. I'm just Arnav. I don't know who my father is." He had replied and Aman had instantly seen the sadness clouding in his eyes. "And I don't want to talk about it." He had said and Aman had never questioned him about this ever again.
Aman plucked the blade of grass he was sitting on and tried to hurl it ahead of him. However, since the grass was light weighted, it didn't gain enough momentum and fell just a few inches ahead of him.
"Why are you following me?" Arnav had asked, walking towards the gate, a little bit irritated at the new boy who was following him.
"I don't know what else to do. The other men in the house don't seem to like me. They stare at me weirdly. You are the only friend I have in this city." Aman had replied lowering his head. "And I need some money. I can help you out with whatever you do. Teach me. Maybe your Boss will give me some money if I do some work." He had offered with a gleeful smile.
"You won't be able to do it." Arnav had said patting his fragile shoulder. "How much money do you want? I'll give you." He had continued and taking out a wallet from his pant pocket, he had shoved two, hundred rupees note in the little boy's hand.
"No, I cannot take it. Babu always says that we should never take other's hard earned money." Aman had replied, handing it over back to Arnav.
"Just shut up and take it. You yourself have told me what your family is going through. Take this money and go back to your village and give it to your parents. Your brothers and sisters need this." Arnav had ordered sternly and Aman had no choice but to accept it.
"Thank you Bhaiyya." He had replied cheerfully and leapt on Arnav for an awkward yet grateful hug.
Aman felt his chest constrict as he remembered the day when he had returned back to his village and handed over the money to his parents. Everyone had finally eaten a proper meal, they could afford some medicines and the smile that they had on their faces was worth every struggle he had faced in Delhi and that day, he had known that Delhi was his new home.
It had been past 11 in the night and both the boys had been returning from an errand back to their house. Although only Arnav was supposed to go, Aman had insisted on accompanying the boy.
Suddenly, the dark quiet night had been disturbed by the noises of Gunshots that were fired at their direction. Immediately, Arnav had retrieved out his gun from his belt and started firing back at the assailants, pushing Aman to a corner to shield him.
That was the first time, Aman had experienced a gang war. He had seen the bullets being fired mercilessly, a body of a man being dropped dead on the floor as the bullet pierced through his head. And for a little boy, completely new to this, he had been terrified by the sight and noise, forcing him to pee in his shorts.
Only when the firing had finally stopped and Arnav had helped him stand up, he had come back to his senses.
For the next whole week that followed, he had been down with terrible fever, the nightmare replaying again and again in his mind.
"See, this was why I had told you that you won't be able to do the work I do." Arnav had said, checking his forehead for fever.
But that hadn't deterred Aman. Somehow, he had seen how Arnav was being paid for the work he was doing. There was lots of money involved and he knew this would be the perfect job for him. And by now, Aman had grown very close to Arnav.
A week later, Arnav had found him fiddling with his gun in the room.
"I want to try it." Aman had replied, causing Arnav to smirk at him.
"Are you sure you won't pee in your pants once again?" Arnav had asked, leading him to the practice arena while he fitted a silencer at the nozzle of the gun to avoid any unwanted attention.
"Here, shoot this dummy." He had said, handing over the gun and for the first time, Aman had coiled his fingers over the trigger and after getting an assuring look from Arnav, he had shot the dummy.
That feeling when the bullet left the gun was simply indescribable. Adrenaline, anxiety, nervousness all followed it. And then, a strange feeling of accomplishment.
"Not bad. You'll need some training. I'll ask Khalid Bhai for it." Arnav had replied calmly, smiling at him.
And from that day onwards Aman had never looked back. He had dedicated the entire last decade in the service of his Arnav, whom he considered no less than his own brother, being his right hand.
"How does Arnav Singh sound?" Aman has asked lying on the floor of their shared bedroom.
"What?" Arnav had demanded, creasing his forehead.
"Yeah, Arnav Singh. Aman Singh. Sounds nice right?" Aman had asked propping himself on top of his elbow. "So what if you don't have a family? You have me, Bhaiyya. And brothers have the same surname." He had suggested grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"Arnav Singh?" Arnav had repeated raising his eyebrow. "Whatever!"
But now as Aman saw back, he realised that from that day, Arnav had subconsciously started adding the 'Singh' to his name.
And then as he stared at the entire darkness looming all around him, the faces of his family flashed in front of his eyes.
"May God bless every mother with a son like you." He remembered his mother's voice as she placed a warm kiss on his forehead when he had gone to his village for Diwali. He had stared into those warm loving eyes that made him feel like the luckiest person in the world to have a mother like her.
"I know you must be working so hard in Delhi for us." His mother had replied cupping his face with tear filled eyes. "I'm sorry you have to go through all this. I'm sorry I couldn't look after you and couldn't fulfil your dreams."
"Amma, are you crying?" he had asked, wiping away her tears. He hadn't told her what work he did and it didn't matter as long as his family could sleep with their stomachs full every night.
"Bhaiyya." He heard his little three year old sister tug his pants. "Amma cries everytime when we are eating dinner. She misses you a lot." She had said in her squeaky voice, while he lifted her in his arms.
"And how much do you miss me, Guddi?" he had asked, grinning widely at her.
"This much." She had replied stretching wide her tiny hands as much as possible.
Aman smiled remembering his baby sister. She was still a baby for him even after a decade. Honestly, he didn't know why she was the closest amongst all his siblings. But from the time she had been born, he had formed an instant connection with her and for the first year of her life, he had taken care of her when his mother was away working at the fields.
"Aman Bhaiyya, where's my gift?" she had asked excitedly as she tied a Rakhi on his wrist.
Aman had forced a fake frown on his face to tease his sister. "I forgot to bring it this time. Sorry." He had replied, controlling the laughter inside him. He had instantly seen her face dip with sadness. "It's okay. Maybe next Raksha Bandhan." She had replied in a low voice, turning away from his gloomily.
"Aye Pagli! Did you really think I would forget?" he had pulled her arm from behind, turning her around to face him and retrieved out a blue colour wrapped gift from behind him and he had seen her face, instantly light up with happiness.
"Thank you. You're the best Bhaiyya in the whole world!" she had exclaimed as she hugged him fiercely.
Every Raksha Bandhan, she had tied him the rakhi and he had vowed to protect her from every evil.
But right now, a tear rolled down his eye as he was reminded about how he had failed his words. She was lying there with the enemies, scared and helpless and there was nothing he could do about it. Not just his sister, his entire family was in danger.
He had not only failed as a brother, he had even failed as a son to protect his parents and the guilt was too much for him to handle anymore. They needed him. He was their only hope, a beacon of light amidst the darkness that surrounded them.
He had to do this for them.
Aman stood up from the ground he was sitting on and retrieving out his cellphone, he dialled the number.
"Hello, Shyam? I'm ready to work for you. Just tell me what do I have to do to get my family back." He spoke as another tear rolled down his eye.
o0o
Arnav looked down at his injured palm. The tiny wounds had now nearly healed and now they were merely scratches. The physical scars were healing but what about the wounds of his heart? Would they ever heal?
One more man had been shot down leaving just another one remaining. After that his work in Guwahati would be completed.
And then, maybe he could convince Khalid Bhai to let him go.
He wondered what must have been happening in Delhi. Had Khushi revealed his truth to Kashyap? Were police set after him? Would that mean he could no longer live in Delhi?
Maybe it was time for him to move to some other place.
Khushi...
He felt a strange piercing emptiness within him, whenever he thought about her. His body craved for her, his mind needed her comfort and he knew that these flames of madness within him would only increase as the days passed.
No, he needed to hear her voice. He needed her.
Retrieving out his phone from his pocket, he changed the sim card and dialled her number. He waited.
The phone rang once, twice, thrice and then finally, the ringing stopped and he heard that voice.
"Hello?" Khushi asked, wondering whose number it was and who would call her at this time of the night.
Arnav felt a tear roll down his cheek as he heard her voice and closing his eyes tightly, he remained silent, unable to find any strength to communicate with her for the fear that she would refuse to talk to him.
"Hello?" Khushi asked once again wondering who it was. For a second, she thought it was some mischief maker troubling her with the prank calls. But the next second, she heard a low sniff and she felt her whole body stiffen as the realisation dawned upon her. Instantly, she felt her chest constrict as tears rolled down her eyes too and she collapsed on the floor, crouching her knees towards her chest.
But she did not dare to utter another word. She silently cried and she knew he was doing the same.
Arnav heard her sobbing and for a minute, he felt extremely guilty for making her go through this. Maybe he shouldn't have called her. Maybe he should just disconnect the call.
But no, Arnav didn't have the courage or the strength to do so. He just wanted to hang on to her silence, find relief in knowing that she was there on the other end, connected to him.
The silence between them was deafening, as the only sounds that interrupted it were their deep heavy breaths. Yet, somehow, it made them feel relieved to know that the other had still not disconnected the call. They didn't know how long they sat like that. They didn't bother.
"Please forgive me." After what seemed to be an eternity, Arnav finally spoke and immediately disconnected the call without waiting for an answer coz he knew he couldn't bear to hear her refusal.
Hearing those words, his voice, Khushi realised that inspite of all the wrong that Arnav had done to her, her heart still beat for him. Dropping the phone to her side, she began to cry, feeling helpless at where destiny had landed her.
CHAPTER 48
So now, I hope you know why Arnav's name is Arnav Singh!😛
And someone had asked why is Guddi highlighted in many updates?
She is just there to show the difference between family and friends and how blood relations always win over friends. Arnav is Aman's best friend and he does consider him as a brother. But Aman can never choose him over his real sibling. So Guddi was just created to highlight this fact.
And someone also asked why did Arnav rush to Guwahati when Khushi left him behind? Did he not trust her enough?
Basically, Arnav has suffered a lot in his childhood and his experience has taught him not to trust anyone. He values his life more than anything. It's his survival instincts and they are very dominant in him. that's why he behaves that way.
And one more crazy reader of this FF has displayed her new heights of craziness.😆 And that is Lilly205. she has actually made a cover picture for this FF and I have to say it's perfect!👏
Thank you Lilly205. It means a lot to me.😃
And next update will be on wed night. So don't waste your time stalking me until then :D
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
193