Arti came back to Delhi and tried to settle into a routine. The days were fine – she kept herself busy with work. But the evenings were so difficult. She hated going back home...no, not home, it wasn't a home any more. The barsaati felt like a prison to her now. The only place where she got some peace was the roof-top garden – the garden that she could not bear to leave. She spent all her free time there, coaxing the plants to flower again, bear fruit, bloom...while she herself remained listless, lifeless, forlorn.
One evening, nearly a month after coming to Delhi, Arti came home and picked up the mail that lay in front of her doorstep. As she flipped through the envelopes, one caught her eye. Quickly opening the door with one hand, she dropped the others on the floor as she tore the envelope open...
When Arti did not come in to work the next morning or call in sick, Zoya took an early lunch and stopped by her house. The door was slightly ajar...Zoya ran up the remaining steps in her anxiety...Delhi was not the safest city and all the recent thefts and attacks ran through her mind.
Pushing the door open she started to call out for Arti when she saw her...she was lying crumpled on the floor, right in front of the single table in the room. Fear chilling her heart now, Zoya went up to her friend. Kneeling down, she reached out to Arti, calling her name softly.
"Mmm..." came the soft reply and relief washed over Zoya. She was asleep!!
"Arti, wake up! Utho" Zoya urged, shaking her by the shoulders now.
Arti turned her head towards Zoya, and she finally saw her friend's face. Arti was hurt all right...all the pain, all the grief that Arti had buried deep in her heart was etched on to her face now. Her eyes were red and puffy...how long had she been crying? Did she cry herself to sleep? The tears had dried on her cheeks, staining her face...she was still wearing yesterday's clothes...
"Arti?" Zoya said softly, urging her friend to get up, off the floor.
Holding on to Zoya's hand, Arti sat up. She still held the paper in her hand and Zoya plucked it from her dangling fingers. It was a letter from Indian Institute of Management informing them that Prashant Dubey had been admitted to that premier institution for MBA.
"Those were his last words you know Zo" Arti said shakily, remembering the scene before the car crash... "I have a good chance of getting the Mehta's account. If I get it and then with a MBA too in hand – Arti, life ban jayegi".
"He wanted to get in IIM so much – he wanted to get the degree from the best possible place Zo". With tears pouring down Arti turned to her friend and asked "Why?"
With her own tears threatening to spill over Zoya hugged her friend, rubbing her back, trying to calm her as Arti cried her heart out. Zoya sent up a silent prayer of thanks ...at last, at long last she had cried, had a reaction...now she could start to heal again.
As the days went by Zoya saw her friend come back to life, one tiny bit at a time. The lively, bubbly cheerful Arti was gone, perhaps forever. In her place was a more somber woman, one who rarely smiled, but when she did, it lit up her whole face. Her sense of humour was coming back too – but instead of the teasing, laughing Arti there now was a woman who would just smile. The talkative Arti was gone – replaced by a woman who listened and absorbed, but rarely if ever responded. She used to be the shining star of the accounting department – work-wise she still was. But now instead of being the liaison between accounting and every other group, she just blended into the background...
It was Zoya's niece's second birthday. On her first birthday, Arti had helped arrange everything. The stark difference in her behavior for the second birthday was the first hint Zoya had that there was something still very wrong...
"No Zoya, I can't come to Ashna's party" Arti said for the nth time. "Don't force me". This last was said with such finality that even Zoya could not argue.
Her Ammi clued her in. "Arti has been grieving for Prashant. But has she grieved for her lost baby yet?...She used to love playing with Ashna, with other kids – she avoids them now. Has she even mentioned her baby to you Zoya?"
Wonderingly, Zoya thought back over the last few weeks. "No" she said finally.
"She desperately wanted a family Zoya. With Prashant gone, she lost the family she had made. But losing her baby – she lost her last chance of building a family, her own family." Ammi shook her head, "Don't force her Zoya...let her come to terms with her loss."
With her mother's words ringing in her ears, Zoya reached out to the only other person she could think of for help. Despite never having met each other, Vidhi and Zoya had become friends in their anxiety over Arti. It was time to group their forces...
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The fiscal year-end madness was finally over. Summer had rolled around and Delhi felt like an open oven. Sunaina called, and with considerable help from Zoya and her Ammi, convinced Arti to come to Mumbai for a visit.
Pratik picked Arti up at the station and was shocked at her appearance. His Gundididi was nowhere in sight. In her place was a thin, somber woman, pale even in the summer sun, with eyes sunken into deep dark holes. Trying for a lighter tone, he teased her, "Hai Didi. You scared me. Even skeletons look better than you". As Arti smiled in response, his heart sank. His Gundididi would have turned around and teased him, pulled his ears, something...not smiled like that. A smile that barely warmed her eyes.
Sunaina pulled Arti into a close hug when she reached home. This was the first time they were meeting after Arti's return from Indore and seeing her, Sunaina's heart clenched in pain. Arti looked the epitome of grief – her deep-seated loss had etched its mark on her face, on the way she carried herself, on her very being. She was a pale shadow of herself – but Sunaina, Vidhi and Zoya had hopes to turn things around.
Arti saw Vidhi come down the stairs. With one hand she held the arm of Payal who was still learning how to climb down the stairs. The other hand held a bundle clasped tightly to her shoulder. A baby? Vidhi had another baby and she didn't tell her? Arti felt a jolt go through her as pain filled her heart.
"Arti!" Vidhi called out, in the same gay tone they had always used for each other. She tripped down the stairs, as quickly as she could. As soon as they reached the bottom stairs, Payal ran to Pratik and grabbed him around his knees. Vidhi came grinning broadly to Arti and hugged her with her one free arm.
Vidhi winced internally as she saw Arti. The change in her friend spoke to the devastation she felt. Vidhi could barely recognize the vibrant girl in the pale woman who stood in the doorway, looking up at her with untold pain shadowing her dark eyes. Vidhi felt guilty – guilty that she was happy, guilty that she was blessed with a loving family. And then she pulled herself together – Arti would not want her to feel guilty. But she was determined to wipe at least some of the pain away from those beautiful eyes that looked as if they needed to cry but had forgotten how.
As they separated from the hug Arti voiced the question plaguing her since she saw her friend. "Vidhi, you had another baby and didn't tell me?" Despite trying, she could not keep the hurt out of her voice.
Giving an adoring look to the baby, Vidhi replied, "He is not my baby." Then turning him slightly so he was facing Arti, she continued, "Arti, meet my nephew – Ansh Yash Scinidia."
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Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
