A very happy Diwali to all of u!đ
I am home for Diwali on a two week break and wanted to write something while I am here. It's an SS with 2-3 parts or maybe more if time permits and of course if u like the storyline. So read on and hit the like botton for pms of future updates.
She' in the picture
Diwali was the only time of the year when Swayam Shekhawat felt certain tenderness towards the Shekhawat Residence, the house he grew up in, the place that he had stopped calling home for some time now, ever since he shifted base to New York in pursuit of a coveted bachelor's degree. Despite the grandeur that the house boasted of, its extravagant interior that the press was always too eager to capture and other similar elements that Swayam found difficult to take pride in, he loved the place for the vibe it emanated. It was the kind of vibe that makes one feel welcome and at the same time warns one from being too much at home, with a subtle emphasis on the thought that this comfort ought to be a temporary arrangement wherein you collect yourself, set yourself a goal and work towards it. It blended well with his ambitious nature and set his priorities into perspective. The festival of lights, however, made him both vulnerable and envious of the content and happiness that the house bestowed on its permanent inmates, his grandparents, to whom it was home and probably the only place worth being in the entire world. This year their happiness had increased its share by huge margins because they had finally found a match for Swayam and had emotionally blackmailed him into coming home for the occasion so that he could meet his bride to be. They secretly hoped that Sharon could cancel out all the tragedies that had piled up on their grandson's life and were searching for the right moment to show him her photograph. They were looking more for his willingness than approval as they knew that even though he would always go by their wishes, the boy needed to find a heart of his own, one that was capable of loving and trusting again.
Swayam entered the hall rubbing his sleepy eyes, trying hard to fight the jetlag. He was swept into a sea of commotion that was typical of a Diwali morning. The milkman rattling on the side door, the phone ringing continuously with festive excited voices wishing them from the other end, servants rushing around tiding the house, the radio station playing happy songs and advertising sweet and confectionery shops, his grandmother summoning the cook in querulous tones, his grandfather wondering if he would receive his morning tea at all, but as soon as Swayam was within range everything seemed to stand still and for one brief moment the entire household was bound by a common purpose, that of beholding the son of the house. They smiled their best as their eyes met the brown of his. Even the lights seemed to flicker only to reflect in his intelligent eyes. He greeted them all with a charming smile, touched the feet of his elders and volunteered to help with the cleaning ignoring the loud protests that erupted from every corner of the hall.
He chose the bookshelf which was his favorite corner and was caught off guard by the age-old memory of his eight year old self flicking through the soft pages of a book of poems in which he found a picture pressed against one of the pages. He could still feel the excitement in his veins of having found a picture of his mother as a sudden surprise, especially since his grandparents hardly mentioned her. Her smile was so radiant that he knew even at that young age that it must have been his father behind the camera. The note she had penned down at the back of the photograph was beautiful and heartbreaking. It spoke of her yearning for his father and her excitement regarding their upcoming wedding. The note had made him feel closer to his dead parents more than any of his imaginings regarding them had and he had slept with the photograph under his pillow for years secretly hoping to find a love as strong as theirs. It was only in his adolescent years that he got to know that no such wedding ever took place because his father had never returned from the states as he had promised. He had abandoned them in the face of better career opportunities. He had got used to the idea that his mother had died giving birth to him and it had been exceeding difficult to think that she might have died of a broken heart too.
Swayam pushed the memory away while he dusted the old books and arranged them in place. The fact that he had left home for studies soon after the revelation had helped him cope and the subsequent years saw him become very matter-of-fact about the entire deal.
He took a step back to evaluate his efforts and pleased with his work turned to face his loving grandmother, raising his collar and smirking cutely.
"You see every work till perfection don't you, a perfectionist just like Anu had been", she smiled profusely. Swayam was so much like her daughter that she had easily found her in him. For his grandfather too, he stood for the happy memory their daughter was. Swayam laughed and gave his grandmom a side hug. How deeply and genuinely he loved this woman. "You know who all are coming home tonight don't you..", she continued, her voice a curious blend of pleasure and anxiety. Swayam rolled his eyes and looked towards her. "Of course I know. And I don't understand why you are so worked up? You know I trust you with every decision of my life. I like her if you like her", he reassured. His voice was so convincing and innocent that she couldn't help pulling his cheek and patting his hair. "Least you can do is seeing her photograph." She handed him the picture and hurried to work again shouting behind her back, "She is Sharanjeet. We call her Sharon."
"Lets see who they have chosen to bring Technicolor to my sepia world", he joked in his head as he turned the picture over. He was at once caught in those deep brown earnest eyes, her serious and straight eyebrows reminding him of his mother's. But the girl in the picture was a person of her own too, with her generous, strong-willed and beautiful smile. She smiled with such vivacity into the camera that Swayam felt protectiveness rise in him like a wave. He felt that this smile must be protected at all cost and thus it was important to let her know that he was no good for her, that he would not be able to keep her happy because love and marriage had no meaning to him. This is what his father should have done instead of instilling false hopes in a woman seeking love. He tried to pull his eyes away from the 'she' in the picture but she seemed to exude a magnetism of sorts which made his eyes glide over her pretty face over and over again and his mind pierce through various layers of emotions he thought himself bereft of. Suddenly it seemed very difficult to follow the one unsaid rule his conscience had abided by so far, that of always obeying his grandparents who had brought him up facing a lot of hardships and sacrifices. He could not keep Sharon's happiness at stake. His eyes became decisive and rigid as he made up his mind to refuse the proposal and tell her that it was for her own good as he is not made for commitment. He pocketed her photograph, little realizing that she had already instigated something in him, something that had percolated through the icy nonchalance he treated life with and had made him feel more human than he had felt in years.
p.s. Hope u enjoyed. I'l pm the next part to those who like the post, in a day or two. Have a happy and safe diwali.. đł
Kyunki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi 2
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