I think we were nine when it happened, I don't remember a lot of the details clearly. But that night, it's etched in my brain like I was born with it.
I reminisce about that night many times. Especially when I'm lying in bed, too tired to get up and occupy myself but not too exhausted to fall asleep, and in that no man's land, everyone's brain works in awkward ways. Maybe that's why instead of shutting down, it thrusts me into a mirage of various and eclectic memories, one that would put a Karan Johar movie to shame. And strangely amongst all of these, there's always that memory.
I would not remember anything else from that time of my life, this clearly. Not merely because of its significance, but because it would be an obvious sin for me to forget.
I don't think I've ever heard him chuckle that beautifully ever since, and to think of it, he was laughing at my then new princess pyjamas. It was the mirth of his gaze that had stopped me from going all "hunter wali" on him. Yes I remember.
We weren't then of an age where the "a-girl-and-a-guy-cannot-be-best-friends" yet applied, and sleepovers were not as scandalous. He was lying on my favourite side of the bed, already changed into his superman pyjamas. I pulled out a few game sets from my cupboard and he made faces at Scrabble. I returned the expression and made it to the bed with the box of Monopoly, which ensued another round of argument over who got which token.
We were halfway through the game when mom called out to remind us it was time for bed. I felt like calling back to tell her that we didn't have school the next day, but I bit my tongue. Ranveer laughed at my much obvious inner turmoil and I played my chance to ignore him. Nevertheless we were good kids; we put the lights out right after the game ended.
What started with just a whack on his head with my pillow for a quirky remark, quickly escalated into a pillow fight and we landed on the swing in my balcony, exhausted from the glory of the indecisive battle.
The sudden knock on my door broke our fit of giggles. It was my dad. For a moment I got worried that he was here to scold us for making a ruckus. But all his looked was frazzled. I heard him say that someone was there to meet Ranveer and I suddenly sought the wall clock that eerily reflected half past ten.
He stared between me and dad unsure of what was happening, and so was I. He followed dad, when he once again beckoned him, after having stood there dumbfound for a few moments. And I followed him. It was only when I saw my mother sitting at the dining table, sobbing hard with her head in her hands, that the level of the yet unknown tragedy struck me.
It should be blur, that unknown man, with a rugged look and haphazardly thrown on shirt and pants, getting up to greet Ranveer, whom he somehow knew. My mother breaking into monstrous sobs upon seeing us standing there. And my father, torn between being next to Ranveer and consoling his hysterical wife. But it's not, it's all clear to me as the day.
"Ranveer, your parents were in an accident. They are no more." That scream that left Ranveer's lips that night still haunts me. It reverberated through my entire conscious that night. I couldn't feel the tears that were trickling down my face as I stood there stupefied. I should've sought my mother for a reassurance that they hadn't left me, something that would be expected of a nine year old. But I couldn't move a limb. It was only when Ranveer ran back inside that my eyes, which were transfixed on him, moved and my legs automatically followed.
When I reached my room I could see him standing in the middle of the room, screaming with all his might, the only word he could muster – no. All I could do was envelop him in my arms. I collapsed on the floor with the sheer force of his weight when his legs couldn't hold him anymore. And in the dark of the night, we sat there on the floor, clinging on to each other, for our own reasons.
It was the toll of midnight on my wall clock that made me realize that there was silence in the room. He was not sobbing anymore. His eyes were fixed on a random spot on the wall, which he even might not have been able to see in the dark. I didn't move, neither did he. And that's all that I remember of that night.
When I wake up I realized I have tear stains on my face. Somehow this has become my body's mechanism. It reminded me of that day on every sleepless mundane night, to exhaust me into slumber. And on each new day after that I'd look at the picture on my bedside table, where he smiled, to remind myself that he was healing.
"Mom, I'm ready." I try pushing everything out of my head through the mechanical process of getting ready. But it's my mother sitting in the same spot as that night, unmoving, that abruptly halts everything – me and my thoughts. "Mom?"
"Huh?!" I break through her train of thoughts and she looks up at me, though somehow, looking through me.
"What happened?" I sit down next to her.
"I… I was just missing Aarti." She sorrowfully smiles at me, halfway through getting up from her place to serve me breakfast. "She'd have loved to see you and Ranveer being as close as we both were." She smiled as she put down the bowl of cereal in front of me.
"Mom, wherever Aunty and Uncle are, they must be looking down, proud of Ranveer for having survived so well. And proud of you, for taking care of him." I hold her hand, because I know that's what Aarti Aunty would've done.
"She'd be proud of you… for being there for Ranveer."
"He's been there for me too." I smile at her.
"When did you grow up so much." She puts a hand on my head with a proud caress and I stop the spoonful of cereal midway. I know when I grew up, we were only kids then, but we grew up at midnight, that day ten years ago.
***
Seher Hone Ko Hai
