Rules Of Attraction#3 Chapter 37 02/10 Pg73 NEW! - Page 23

Even when I detach, I care. You can be separate from a thing and still care about it. If I wanted to detach completely, I would move my body away. I would stop the conversation midsentence. I would leave the bed. Instead, I hover over it for a second. I glance off in another direction. But I always glance back at you.

The Lover's Dictionary, David Levithan

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A month later

A distinct silence surrounded the lounge of the airport, where Arnav and Khushi were seated in, a month after their wedding, waiting for the announcement of their flight to Delhi. The silence was idiosyncratic of bad news. Their insides felt as if they were being churned, in that lurching way that you fear when you are faced with something destructive, to say the least. Both their hearts throbbed louder, stronger and piquing to levels they didn't think it could attain. A benumbing sensation slowly enveloped the intense rhythm, as the realisation of the dismal happening sunk in.

Shalini had passed away.

Khushi got up from her seat, heading towards the glass-panelled windows as she watched the rain falling softly on the mahogany leaves, curled and crunchy from the afternoon sun. But the heat felt far off, the clouds purling precariously around seeming as though the sky would crumble and fall in an obscure puddle centring her mind. The winds howled along the side-walk, watching the darkness open up, spreading in the vicinity a quite silence, its glacial breath benumbing all that's in the way. She felt tired, weary; she had been turning and learning for far too long. She felt exhaustion overcoming her body slowly, as her fingertips tapped the windowsill impatiently. Not once had it crossed Khushi's mind that her friend had battled and lost with the same disease which she was still playing hide and seek with. All she knew was that she now had in her life, the absence of another loved one. It still seemed surreal to her, that no longer would she get to watch that frail figure clad in colourful cotton sarees running about in the kitchen that would create a riot of scents ranging from the frying of bay leaves to the crackling of dry red chillies. No longer would she get to revel in the nearly maternal concern that would simmer in Shalu's eyes, every time she would talk about her, her health, anything at all.

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It's the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more.* And so did Arnav think, as he waited for Khushi outside Ajay's cabin, his mind delving into the probability her, his, their happiness.

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"She is really gone? Isn't she?" Nobody spoke; words were the last thing on either of their minds. Ajay's words rand in her mind, and she tried hard to come up with words of comfort, solace, however failing miserably. "I don't think I can ever live with the fact that I'll never see her again." She hugged him, whispering, "You have to Ajay, for her." They both cried, for a long time, remembering the old days, wallowing in their sweetness, which ended as soon as the door of Ajay's cabin opened, and Arnav's face came into view. Khushi pulled away from the embrace, her eyes meeting Arnav's, as he carefully covered the slightest hint of irritation in his eyes by giving a curt nod. "I'm heading to the hotel, you take your time." The cabin door closed and once again, Khushi found herself dredging into darker realms.

Slowly as rain turned into a soft drizzle, its sound slowly getting muffled and mellow, her thoughts drifted to the silent man standing beside her. Shoulders tense, stiff, his eyes concentrating on photos of his wife, but his eyes distant, far off. And suddenly it stumbled over her, that any day now or maybe a few months, or years later, Arnav would be in the exact same position as Ajay would be now. She still remembered Ajay's voice starting out as firm, but breaking with each word being spoken, his breathing strangled, obscure. And yet she had married Arnav, wanting to live the ordinary life of a young girl. But had she not thought about the future, those perpetual what-ifs? She had and with Arnav himself, they had resolved of fighting through it all together. But suddenly, Shalini's demise seemed to be like reality knocking down their front door.

Khushi had not failed to see that mild annoyance in Arnav's eyes whilst he had witness Ajay and hers embrace. The seeds of doubt had been planted. But she prayed for strength for what she was about to do next.

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The television was playing a roll of advertisements, an incessant chatter went on in the background, but Arnav was not looking at the screen, his eyes were trained on the immobile Panasonic phone set, as if awaiting a call, as Khushi entered the hotel room.

Her hands felt unnaturally cold, amidst the humid surroundings of Delhi. She didn't actually realize but she had already been crying even as she had stepped out of the radio taxi , visualising the scene that she was about to act out in her mind over and over again. And yet, every time she wanted to back out, Ajay's words replayed themselves over and over again. I don't think I can ever live with the fact that I'll never see her again.

Arnav's voice knocked her into the present, as she furiously tried to wipe her face dry. "What's wrong...why are you crying?" She didn't reply, as her gaze wavered, falling over the floor, and in the next second, that seemed dangerously slow, vexatious-she pushed those warm hands placed on her waist with a gentle, yet determined push. Something, small, nonetheless monumental shifted against Arnav. Something very much alike to that fateful night on the NSD roof, when he had seen those walls up her eyes, saying words that were unreasoned, irrational. Arnav watched as she walked a little away from him, maintaining enough distance that would bear a hindrance to any form of his touch, lest she faltered in what she was going to say then.

"This, this thing, I can't go on like this..." She had paused for a second, to draw in air, and to rehearse in her mind once again the weighty sentence, block out the burning acid like taste slowly spreading in her throat. He took a step towards her, only to halt abruptly at her next words. "There's someone else...someone I met recently. I...I like him--" Arnav was there in front of her in an instant, his palm trembling against her gelid cheek. His eyes were brimming with silent fury, merely lingering on the brink of desperation. "Is this some kind of joke Khushi?" She went past him, facing the window, her hands placed against the cold glass panels, the street lights appearing blurry to her mind through the thin film of moisture collected at the corner of her eyes. "I'm serious Arnav, but...I, I am sorry. This, this has to end." Her voice broke by the end of the sentence, and her nails dug into her palm, the anguish piling into the tiny fist. His voice came like a raspy whisper, as his fingers wound themselves around her hands, encasing them with his shaky ones, "You...you like him?"

"I love him--" The words were said, turned to him, yet looking at the slate grey lapels of his blazer. His voice was calm, deadly calm, "Then why are you crying Khushi?" This time she looked him in the eye that tears clinging right to the lashes, breaking her heart slowly. But she spoke, anyway. "I am not joking Arnav. He...he makes me happy."

"And I don't?"

When she turned away from him, covering her mouth, letting the pent-up tears flow, all she wanted to do was just turn, and embrace him, and rest in the arms of the man who she had come to realize was not merely a significant part of her life, but rather, life itself. A habit, she would inevitably have to give up. Tonight, more likely. She heard something, being flung behind, her, the crash and then his words, seething with frustration, and undercurrents of angst. "We are not done talking about this ...this thing Khushi."

She heard his footsteps, exiting the room, slowly their sound dulling, before there was nothing other than a dormant silence. They say there is sacredness in tears. They are not a mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love. ** Khushi sat in the empty space of the bay window, wanting nothing more than to become unconscious then, or simply vanish. She wanted something, a way to let go of the tears, which seemed to not stop, never, not for her.

*J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter & the Half-Blood Prince

**Washington Irving

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[YOUTUBE]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGH-4jQZRcc[/YOUTUBE]

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