ArYa FF: Dil Jaanta Hai - Thread 1 (chapt 1-10) - Page 88

It had been easy enough for Yash to avoid Arti during the remainder of the week before he left for Bhopal. She did not join the Khans for their meetings with him, not after the first one. And he made sure he went late enough to the orphanage so he would miss her.

As he packed his bags, he could not help berating himself – it was something he had done continuously, every free moment since waking from his drinking spree. "Beta. We just came back from the puja. It went well, but we missed you. The prasad and havan tika is here; you can pick it up when you return." The call had come from his father-in-law and for a moment he was nonplussed - puja, what puja? And then he remembered - it was Arpita's birthday! And he had forgotten all about it!

He did not know which was worse - forgetting Arpita's birthday or drinking himself unconscious because he had! How could he have forgotten her birthday!! But then, how could he drink? She had despised drinking, as did he. And what had he gained? Nothing except a killer of a headache.

Yash sighed to himself. He was so scared. He felt...he felt as if...as if he was losing her....as if she was becoming a memory. And he didn't want that, he didn't want Arpita as a memory - he wanted to feel her as if she were right there with him. As he had felt her presence through these months even though she was gone. Rubbing his eyes in weariness he turned for a last check of the cupboard. That's when he saw the gift-wrapped package.

What was that? He picked up the package and saw the card - "To Ansh, with all my love, Arti Aunty".

Oh. Oh yes - he had a faint recollection of Artiji leaving the package there that day, saying it was for Ansh.

He didn't want to open it, but had to so he could fit it into his luggage. He pulled the card off and put it into his laptop bag. Then he tore the wrapping paper. A sherwani suit - a little big but it would fit Ansh in a couple of months he thought. He smiled slightly, Ansh would look like a Chota Nawab in it! And if he was not mistaken, it matched the sherwani Ahmed was going to wear for the nikaah.

He lifted the sherwani out of the package and put it aside. The other gift was the larger one and had another layer of packing. He tore the brown-paper packing off and saw the frame - a picture? He turned it over and his breath caught.

It was a charcoal sketch of Arpita holding Ansh. There were no such pictures of Arpita and Ansh - so Artiji must have made this out of her imagination. He took the framed sketch closer to the window, letting the afternoon sun stream over it. He knew that picture of Arpita! At least...he knew that expression. As recognition dawned, Yash lovingly traced Arpita's face with his fingers. It was his favourite picture of hers.

Yash closed his eyes as memories washed over him. Arpita laughing up at him, her eyes sparkling, hair streaming behind her. "Just one more picture Aru - hold still just like this" Yash had said as he leapt back to get a clear picture. They were on their honeymoon in the Swiss Alps. Arpita had pouted, "Yash, bas. You have taken lots of pictures, aur nahin. Its your turn now."

He had come back to her then, dropping a kiss at the corner of her mouth. "One last picture love - I want that look back, that beautiful smile you were giving me. Go on now." And she had smiled - her captivating smile, the one that made his breath hitch every time he saw it.

He had stepped back, each step making her smile broader. She looked at him with pure love and adoration in her eyes and he barely managed to click the snap, he so wanted to go to her and hold her tight.

Arti had caught that exact same look, with the broad smile. But instead of him, Arpita was looking at Ansh as she cradled him in her arms.

Yash's heart clenched. She had never held Ansh like that, never cradled him. His eyes filled with tears and for the first time since Arpita's death, he let them flow freely. Clutching the sketch close to his heart he vowed, "My son....I won't let you feel the loss of your mother - not anymore. We both will love each other so much that there will be no place for anyone else. I love you beta". Yash was not sure if that was a promise to Ansh or to himself - but he meant every word, it came from his heart.

Arti wrapped the shawl tightly around herself. She was sitting on the swing and it was evening, the winter chill creeping in with the October air.The last week or so had been...disturbing.

She felt as if...as if the cocoon she had built around herself was unraveling. Since coming back from Mumbai she had managed to charter out a path for her life. It may not be ideal, but it worked for her. Home-work-orphanage-home. It was....it was safe. She felt secure, numb...at peace.

There were no emotions involved, no overwhelming feelings...any kind of feelings in fact. Feelings caused pain...this cocoon, this path she had chosen for herself - it kept her safe from pain. It protected her, guarded her.

But since Yashji had come, something had shifted. For some reason he brought the whiff of feelings back into her life. A whiff she tried to snuff out. That way lay danger, that way lay pain. And why did the feelings come anyway? Was it because he was Ansh's father? Was it because he had lost his loved one too? A fellow-sufferer? He brought with him all her deeply buried feelings of loss - the family she had lost, the love she had lost, the baby she had lost.

She had managed to avoid him, especially after she had had to go to his hotel room that morning. Even the memory of it made her cringe. That had been...too real. She didn't want that, she didn't want to deal with reality, with people, with expectations. The children at the orphanage were safe, Zoya was safe, work was safe - with them there were no expectations. Only what happened of its own accord.

But dealing with a drunk Yashji, and its after-effects - that had been too real. It reminded her of the one thing she had resolutely buried inside her - Prashant had been slightly drunk that night. And if she even allowed herself to think of it, she was consumed by rage. Rage that he could have been so careless, rage at herself for letting him drive, rage at him for dying, rage at him for killing their child. Rage that she was so alone, all alone in the world. And with that thought came sadness, a grief so profound that it left her helpless in its wake, shaking, nerve-endings on fire.

How could Prashant do that to her? And how could she be so angry at him when he was gone? When she loved him so much that her heart broke every morning when she woke up alone in their bed?

Arti got up and shivered. She pulled the shawl even closer around her as she walked to the edge of the parapet. She stood there, alone, looking down at the driveway. Their car had been parked there - for what, three days? The car that had taken everything away from her. She shivered again, she was glad the car had been destroyed. It saved her the trouble of having to sell it.

And then her eyes fell on the bird. It was pecking on the ground, gathering up the seeds that the owners threw on the ground every morning. Its beak full, it flapped its wings and soared up, high into the sky. As it flew across the sky, the setting sun changed its drab brown colour into a deep glowing bronze, in an instant turning an ordinary house-bird into a bird of paradise.

Arti watched captivated till the bird turned into a distant speck. That flight, that transformation into sheer beauty, into a blazing beacon of glory had churned her insides, leaving her feeling as if she had been turned inside out. She...she wanted that...that flight...that transformation she realized with a shock. The shawl fell involuntarily as she gripped the railing around the parapet, peering deep into the sky, looking up finally as the sun set, bathing her face with its dying rays. To live and to fly...could she dare do that again? Could she dare open her heart to life again?...Could she dare to live and feel again?