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**I have come to realize that this work of mine has settled deeply into my heart. Those who were able to read it, I thank you for that. But it has been moved to a private Blog. There are tidbits for each chapter on this Thread, and if you're interested, please PM.
You are prohibited to share the link with anyone else. If you do, I will remove you from my list.
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An idea that jumped into my brain while I was sitting in the tub, has passed multiple tests and finally made its way onto the Forum. Thought has been poured into defining and moulding it, and I had a feeling that it should be out here for all to read.
This is...different than my other ongoing and previous works. It is...twisted in a way, I suppose. The concept is not something I would have accepted a few months, or even days ago; but I feel that I'm ready to take on the challenge.
This is set right after the Partition, in the midst of the Hindu-Muslim riots.
Lets delve straight into the first chapter shall we?
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Chapter 1 : Speak To Me
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She had been here.
He knew it with every bone in his body. After all, her presence was not something that could be forgotten so easily. A faint smell of lavenders' hung in the fogged area around him. Although the place was foreign, the aroma was not.
Arnav's eyelids swept closed as he breathed in the familiar yet unfamiliar smell. It burned his nasal passage, arousing a feeling akin to fire as it traveled its blazing path down his lungs.
In those few moments, his mind was at peace. But contrary to that welcome feeling; his eyes snapped open in a hurried manner.
Arnav looked around, his brows furrowing as he took in his surroundings. This place was not known to him, so what was he doing here?
An odd sort of fragrance rose from the earth under his feet. It burned through the soles of his polished shoes and crept its way along the length of his legs. Like a soft spirit reaching out to the sky, the fragrance bloomed and wrapped itself around his heart and enveloped Arnav's entire being.
That aroma.
Now he knew why he was here.
This time when he looked around, Arnav was aware of what he was searching for. Searching blindly for her. He knew she'd been here; the smell was a testament to her forgotten presence. It lingered in the dark place, filling it with temporary light.
Just like she'd done to him.
Lost in the melancholy tinge of his thoughts, his fingers rolled the piece of metal almost experimentally within the confines of his fingers. It felt cool to touch. In fact, so cool that it almost burned his fingers. He felt the pads of his digits almost recoil from the icy glint of the metal, and he looked down to inspect the damage.
There was nothing.
It was always nothing.
The anklet lay desolately inside his hand, and he saddened upon seeing its condition. It had been hers once. It had also been beautiful once. Burnished from the most expensive silver and crafted by the immensely talented silversmiths of Chandini Chowk.
But it was not beautiful anymore.
It had wilted away. It had begun to wilt the moment she had left. The sheen of silver changed to the black of pain. Oxidized beyond repair, it echoed the agony of its long gone owner.
Of the man who held it.
This time, rather than that lavender smell, the acrid odor of burning corpses assailed his senses. He felt the screams that suddenly burst around him and his mind conjured images of the pain that flashed through the victim's eyes.
Arnav screeched in agony at the sheer torture of the portraits, and fell down upon the cold, heartless ground. With his cheek pressed against the cool mud that was stained with the blood of innocents, he felt it vibrate under him as some people approached his form.
Arnav felt himself being pulled up by his collar, and his body protested the sudden loss of the coolness emanating from the floor. In contrast to the chill of the ground, the men who surrounded him exuded a fire.
A fire not designed to comfort, but to intimidate.
To obliterate.
"Tu Hindu hai ya Muslim?"
The question was not unfamiliar. He had heard it so many times that he'd begun to lose count. It was an expected enquiry. The chaos that the nation had collapsed into following the Partition had made its appearance even in the most peaceful of neighborhoods. But Arnav was in Delhi, and Delhi had never been peaceful.
He was tempted to say that he was human, and not bound by any form of religion, but the fresh bruise on his brow made him decide against it. These long, painful three days in the war-torn capital had made him realize that he could not afford to act smart.
Quietly, Arnav put his hand at the collar of his shirt. It had been a pristine ivory once, but now it was stained with grime, dirt and blood. The men tensed at his action, and their weapons lifted even higher. They now trained their cheap guns and knives straight at his weather beaten face.
He cracked a smile and pulled out the chain that hung loosely around his neck.
"I'm a Christian. I have nothing to do with either Muslims or Hindus."
The weapons stayed in position for a minute longer, and then dropped. His attackers looked from one to the other and then nodded solemnly at him. Without bothering to utter another word, they turned away from him and left.
Arnav stood in the same stance for a long time. No, it was not fear that froze him, but the memory of her that roared in front of his lifeless brown eyes.
"Yeh pehenlo"
Her pale hands were outstretched and the dark burqa that covered them rose slightly to offer him a view of her milky wrists.
He looked at her face and gazed unwaveringly at her. He didn't know what he looked at, for the dark cloth covered everything except her eyes. But it was those eyes that he lived for, so it was understood why he stared.
She too was used to this unabashed appraisal his eyes showered on her, so she didn't lower her gaze anymore. As she stared back at him, her hazel irises glimmered in the soft sunlight that bounced off the dome of the Dargah.
After a few minutes, he looked to what she held tightly within her delicate fingers.
A rosary.
His question must have reflected in his eyes for she moved closer and deposited the necklace into his hand.
"Kal kya hoga, yeh toh sirf hamaara Khuda jaanta hai. Yeh Hindu-Musalman ka jhagda khatam hone ko nahi dikhta-"
And he had interrupted her with a soft shake of his head.
"Aisa kyon sochti ho? Sab theek ho jaayega-"
But she interjected as well.
"Humne kaha na, humein nahi pataa. Aap bas yeh pehen leejeye. Khuda na khaasta aapko pakad lein toh aap keh deejiye ki aap isaai hain. Chhod denge woh aapko."
He was powerless to say no, and thus, he had accepted.
He owed her his life.
Many times over.
With leaden legs, Arnav began to carry himself forward. His stride was slow and weak; one that proclaimed that he was a defeated man.
A lost man.
His mind went back to the encounter a few minutes ago. Not the first of course, but they still came as a shock. Although he had perfected the lie of stating that he was a Christian, fear still made a place in his heart.
What if they understood he was lying?
If they did, he would be killed without even little remorse. For he was both a Hindu and a Muslim.
Raizada.
The name itself shouted that he was a mixed breed. Blood of royal Nawab's intermingled with that of Rajput princesses. He was a blue blood, wasn't he?
An ironic, half crazed chuckle left his throat at the errant thought. He didn't feel like a blue blood, although his body was quite blue. Once again, he sniggered like a lunatic at his own joke.
She had said that his name was very royal sounding. In fact, she had stated quite insolently one day, it was one of the reasons she had fallen in love with him.
Arnav stopped for a second time as he remembered her, and the lavenders' danced in front of his eyes once again. The smell encircled him almost fiercely, and every pore on his body opened wide to absorb the aroma.
Another scream pierced the night, and the charm disappeared as rapidly as it had appeared.
His eyes opened in a flurry as the aroma exchanged places with the heinous sound, and his lungs once again felt as if they were on fire. His mouth overflowed with the metallic taste of bile, and his tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth.
A flash went off in his mind, and the next thing he knew, he lay spread eagled on the dirty ground. His arms jerked and twitched in tandem with his legs, and his eyes rolled back.
Only one thought screamed in his mind as his body went into those familiar spasms.
Oh Khushi, my Khushi...speak to me.
*This work is solely mine. Do not copy or reproduce without my permission.
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So? How was it? Interesting, not interesting. Meh or decent? I need reviews! Go ahead, fire away! This is the first time I've written something like this and I need feedback!
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