Love. That flimsy little thing. Slippery. What is it? Can anyone define it?
Love, she says. A trap. Meaningless. Happy hopelessness, it is.
Maybe it is like air. Necessary, but no fist can grasp it. No mind can fathom love, only feel it.
It is her weapon. To confuse, to derail, and to degrade me. She is ready to strike with her beauty- a snake, poised. Has she struck, already? Perhaps.
He calls me beautiful. He is strange- why does he slap me with that "praise"? It hurts. Always. This is not how it was supposed to be.
Beautiful women are a creed, like those mermaids Ma spo- that woman spoke about. Made to lure and ruin.
Yet. Yet, he pauses when my gaze meets his, he fumbles. Those eyes, they assess, burn a hole through me, but never cease, in their piercing inquiry, to arrest my soul.
Her eyes spell innocence. All innocence is but deceit. But, when those eyes shed those big, fat tears. Why is it- mesmerising, and painful then? Is it guilt?
Are his eyes like his mother's? Bapu-sa's gruffness is all in his speech. The moments of vulnerability, the pain, the anguish in his soul- those two windows lay all bare. Open. What's missing? Words?
Those honey dripping words of hers. Can one tread so carefully? Plan so meticulously? Does she mean what she sa- no. It's an agenda. She wants something. But is it the money? The haveli? Why do her words betray just as much as her eyes convey, in muted speech?
Love. What does it mean? The laced hands that first night? The shield before me at the face of every danger? The concern for a drop of blood? Or... the quiet company?
Love is a lie. A lesson in life. A lustrous lure. Disastrous.
Is love a new beginning? Words can be unsaid. But this experience can never be undone. Maybe... those eight promises were just words? Absurdly spearheaded, aimed only to hurt?
Tonight will be the last. All of these emotions must die- I will kill them, because I can, and I must. They are fickle. She may claim my bed. The moonlight may befriend her, and conspire against me. There will be no more entwined hands, much less entwined destinies. I will show her darkness, with the first rays of the sun. Tomorrow will be worse.
Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow, I shall try again- to win his heart, to earn his love. Whatever that may be. I should finally sleep. But him- Major Sahab. He's distracting. Is he comfortable on the floor? Maybe I should... No. but if I do sleep in Sunehri's room, what shall I say? Let him be. He deserves as much for all of that hate speech.
This floor is hard. She shouldn't have slept here that ni- whatever. She deserves it. For all her cunning craft, and that artifice of beauty.
Must sleep be so hard to find, after all?
She was lying about the rats- wasn't she?
***
A/N- Hello, hello, forum. This is my very first post. A shorty, short one, but it's a start. The forum is as inspiring as the show has been. The wonderful creativity at work has finally inspired me to join the forum, after a couple of months of quiet stalking of posts. It is a whole culture, of which I hope to be a part. Rangrasiya not only has great scope, but I can see the vibrancy and confluence of diversity here. All thoughts- flaws, and all- on this piece are welcome, and will keep me going for long! Let's see if this experiment works! :)
Please, please do comment. Nothing better than a few words, kind, or otherwise, to keep a creative mind on the run.
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