Hey all you beautiful people! I love writing and love to read people's comments on my work. I decided to write another story on Samud! I wrote this from both points of view and would love to see your commnets on it! So please pleae comment!
Disclaimer- The characters in this story are from the show Saraswatichandra. The story is inspired by the events in the show. However, this story is meant to be only on IF and not to be reproduced or copied by anyone without my explicit permission or the permission of IF.
Saras POV:
I tossed and turned all night. Frustrated and irritated, I shot up from my bed at 2:24AM, and went to the balcony of the palace that my father called a home. A palace to outsiders, and a dungeon to me. I stood outside, watching, as the full moon cast its beautiful light on the view beneath me. My jaw tightened, and I closed my eyes. All I could hear is the melodious chiming of her payals as she walked towards me, and then, my eyes fell on her waist as even there, there was a beautiful piece of jewelry that chimed in harmony with her payals. That's all I saw. She refused to show me her face, and I, being one thousands of miles away, watching her from the screen of my computer, could not compel her to show me her face. I had never seen it before, but in my heart, somewhere, I knew it had to be the most angelic face I had ever seen, to match her beautiful voice, which was soft, yet at the same time, fierce. Before I could've asked her why she was torturing me by refusing to show me her face, she answered.
*You have lost the right to see my face. You rejected me without so much as meeting me, with a letter.(bitterly emphasizing that last word). Coward. That's what you are. Did you ever consider what your no would do to my father? The man who already considers me yours? You wrote me a letter and expect me to just explain it to him? You cant even do that yourself? Coward. If you are a man, you will come here, and say it to him yourself. I am not relaying your message.*
And with that, she was gone. And all I could think about was the beautiful melody that entranced me. And that voice. It reminded me of something' a distance memory, a dream.
My eyes opened in an instant. I knew why that melody, that melody cast a spell on me. I knew it. That same voice, the same chiming of her payals. It was her. She was the one in my dreams. The dreams I resented waking up from. The dreams that made me crazy. Dreams that made me restless, searching for her voice in every voice I heard, listening for that special melody that made me forget myself and the world around me.
I found her. Oh my god. I found her. My breath grew ragged. Shit. Shit. Shit. She's the one. And I just sent her a letter telling her I didn't want to marry her.
I halfheartedly got dressed, unsure of what to do, of how to get her to talk to me. Sunny snapped me out of my thoughts and I came to. He reminded me that we had to fly out to LA. But I wasn't listening. Wherever I went, with each step I took, I heard her anklets chime. They were beckoning me, summoning me to her. And I was being drawn to that dream. That dream that gave me hope, finally a reason to smile. But I ruined it. Sunny looked at me, and sighed.
"Go."
"Huh? Where?" I asked, looking out the window, still lost.
"To her."
Shocked, I turned to face him. "W-who?" I stuttered.
"Kumud."
I closed my eyes at her name, the name that up until last night, I never wanted to utter, never wanted joined with my own. But now, it was the only name coursing through my veins. "How did you- who told y'"
Sunny laughed. "You called me Kumud when I called you. You asked me about my payals- which by the way dude, I don't wear payals. And you just tried to hold my hand. I mean, I like you dude. But not in that way."
I looked away, embarrassed.
"You said you didn't want to marry her. Now all you do is think about her. What changed since the last time I saw you?" he asked, confused.
"I saw her."
"Ohh, she's THAT beautiful?"
"Well, I didn't see her. I just heard her payals. And her voice."
"Huh? How is that possible?"
I looked at him sheepishly. "She refused to let me see her face. She said I had no right to see her if I already refused to marry her."
"So that's why you're acting like this? You're upset because you didn't see her."
" I love her."
"What?! Saras, you rejected her two days ago and then fell in love with her yesterday when u spoke to her? How could u possibly love her?! You don't even know her."
"I felt a connection with her when she spoke yesterday. It was as if I knew that voice, like if there was anything in this world that could bring me peace, its her voice, and the melody of her payal."
Sunny just laughed and shook his head. We came to the office, and Sunny asked the driver to leave and make an excuse with Dad. Confused, I looked at him. He threw the keys my way and laughed.
My foot floored the accelerator, daringly weaving past all the other cars. "Coward." I clutched the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. She almost spat the word out at me, her voice dripping with distain and disgust. My jaw clenched. If only she knew. If only she understood that my parents had an arranged marriage. And that's exactly why I refused her. It was nothing against her. But it had everything to do with arranged marriages. Arranged marriages that tie two strangers into a life that neither of them really wanted but felt compelled to have because of the pressures of society and their families. Arranged marriages ruined lives. My parents were two strangers who never were able to become a family. My mother tried her hardest, but my father wanted money, fame, power. And my mother's simplicity didn't impress him. He hated her, made her feel invisible. I never wanted that. I wanted to find that girl in my dreams, to marry her, to have a family with her. I didn't want a palace. I wanted a home. And somehow my destiny brought me to that girl, and I said no because of my hatred for arranged marriages.
I sped, almost spiraling the car out of control, and slammed the brakes, sending the tires screeching into the quiet morning. Sunny, afraid of his life, took the keys from me and drove the rest of the way. He dropped me off at the airport, wishing me luck and told me to go find her, Kumud. My Kumud.
KUMUD Pov
"I cannot marry you." I quietly sobbed, as I read those words over and over again. I heard my mother call my name, and I quickly ran to turn on the shower, hoping she would think I was still getting ready. I almost wished I had never heard of him. But then again, he had those eyes. The same ones I saw in my dreams, every night. That's all I had ever seen of his picture' his eyes. But then again, that's all I needed to see. I knew those eyes. They were the same spellbinding eyes that caused me to dream every moment of the day. The same eyes that made me breathless every time I saw them. Every morning, I woke up, wanting to to back to sleep, trying desparately to hang on to that dream. One day, unable to resist, I finally took out a blank canvas, and closed my eyes, trying to remember how they looked. I drew a picture of his eyes, and hid it in my dresser, sneaking a peak at the canvas every few minutes. I spent hours talking to those eyes on the terrace, when everyone was a asleep. I searched for those eyes in the eyes of every person I saw. And then, I gave up. And just when I gave up, my father told me he had a marriage proposal for me. I wasn't ready to give up on my dream, but I never say no to my father. I reluctantly agreed, as he told me to look at the picture in an email. I tried, but the picture only loaded partially. And that was the only part I needed to see. His eyes.
But a few days later, I receive a letter from him. And all it said was :
"I cannot marry you."
-Saraswatichandra.
With those words, I actually felt my heart twist . I heard a thousand dreams shatter into a pile of dust. And in that moment, I both loved him. And hated him. But eventually, hate overcame me. He rejected me. Without seeing me. Does he have any idea what kind of stigma that is for a woman? Has he any idea how much shame he will put on my father? My father. No one and nothing mattered more to me than my father. Hearing those words would crush him. He wouldn't be able to face anyone.
It would have hurt less if I didn't love him. I wondered how that was possible when I didn't even know him. Those eyes were all I needed to love him- loneliness, honesty, pain, anger, pride, love- somehow they held all these emotions in them.
But that doesnt matter to me, anymore. He was, is, a coward. A man with such lack of courage and conviction that he needed a letter to convey his rejection. No. he would have to come here, and talk to my father. A letter would not do, certainly not where my fathers pride and reputation was concerned.
I tried to tell myself that I didn't love him. That those eyes weren't his that I had dreamt of. But nothing worked. Lost in thought, I almost burnt the roti I was making. I assigned my students Math homework when I am their English teacher. I wore two different shoes on each of my feet. And my sisters kept teasing me, telling me I was in love with their "jijaji." My heart broke at hearing them call him that. I wanted him to be, but he wasn't at all what I dreamed of.
It was then that I vowed to never let him see me. Reject me without seeing me, will he- ill show him. If he is a Daarpoke from Dubai, then I am a theeki mirchi from Gujarat. I waltzed into the room, refusing to let him see my face, and unwilling to see his. All I wanted to say in that video conversation was how much I hated him for his cowardice. I didn't hear his voice- mostly because I never let him say a word. I didn't want to. I knew if I saw his face, heard his voice, I would melt. I would instantly lose my resolve, and go from a theekhi mirchi to a meethi jalebi in seconds. Especially if I saw those eyes.
But this was for my father. I could handle anything, but not my father's pain. I called him a coward, and I spoke, heat rose to my face, and I became even more infuriated ith him. Anger was burning away at me, like hot coal scathing me until I unleashed my wrath at him, making sure I left him as nothing but charred remains.
A part of me wanted to see him. To look into those beautifully mysterious eyes. The eyes that made me his years ago. Part of me wanted to feel his breath against mine, know the planes of his face, the feel of his fingers as he laced them with mine. Try as I might, I couldn't let go of that part of me, the part of me that had only thought of him for years without even knowing who he was. So I challenged him to come to Ratnanagri and reject me in front of my father. I knew he wouldn't. He already rejected me. He had nothing to lose. But i had to try. I had to know the man I was in love with, even if he didn't love me back. I refused to ever let him see me, to be around me, to call me his. But I still secretly called him mine. Even if he comes, I wont speak to him, I wont forgive him. I don't know what made me call him here, but before I could stop myself, I said those words, daring him to come to me.
Arjun
Anupamaa
