Chaand sifarish joh karta humari, deta woh tumko bata….was playing in the background. How apt this song was, I thought watching my so called biwi glide effortlessly across the party venue in her shimmering teal lehenga.
The party was in full swing. It was the launch of the Brar Avenue project, in which Veer, my younger cousin brother , was to actively take part. If the party was to celebrate Veer’s ascent into business, she was the life of the party, making sure everything went smoothly. She shared a great rapport with Veer who used to call her “Heartist ji”. After marriage she became Parjai ji for him. They both had artistic talent, maybe that’s why they got along so well. To be honest, I think she had almost everyone in the family except for Jassi Bua, Kiara, and Mom bewitched. Even my dad always welcomed her with a smile. She had managed to get him under her spell as well.
I looked around to make sure no one was watching me. Seeing that I was out of anyone's view, I continued to gaze at her shamelessly; the jaadugarni called Sahiba. The gold and mirror work on her dress could not outshine the radiance on her face. The clothes must have been a gift from my Daarji and Beeji. She had won their hearts even before she had come into this house as a bride. She was wearing the same diamonds and pearls encrusted chandbalis that I had once held with quite a bit of fondness. Those earrings looked so suited for her, and to think there was a time I admired them on someone like Seerat. Seerat was Seerat only in namesake, none of her actions proved she had any!
Sahiba and Seerat were sisters, yet they were as different as chalk and cheese. For Seerat’s actions, Sahiba bore insults and taunts from the women in my family except for Beeji. Even Mom wasn’t thrilled. I hadn’t made life any easier for her either. She was a victim of circumstance just like me. However, sometimes now I wonder if this was God’s will. After all, there was the vermillion incident, followed by the malas dropping on us at the same time during Lohri celebrations.
Suddenly, she looked around. She must have sensed someone was looking at her. I quickly averted my eyes. Thank god, I was camouflaged, else getting caught would have been another low blow for my ego.
Soon Prabjyot Bua’s young son came forward to gift his Bhabhi a red rose. She graciously accepted, giving him a dazzling smile showing her beautiful pearl-like teeth. How come I was never the recipient of that smile? I only bore the brunt of her scathing remarks (which I did deserve in a way). Wait a second! That chit of a boy was fixing the red rose in her bun. Since when did he start flirting with her? She gave him a peck on the cheeks and sent him away to the dance floor. I touched my cheek in response to feeling the absence of her peck.
She had put her long serpentine tresses in a low bun which highlighted her graceful surahidaar neck and collarbones. Her smooth olive skin glowed against the contrast of her teal blouse’s dori. Her doe like hazel eyes rimmed with kohl seemed to drown one in them. Her small nath on her petite aquiline nose shone distracting one’s attention. Her highboned cheeks carried a natural rouge. And how can one forget that exquisite mouth of hers? Her lips were a light pink hue just like rose petals. It was from this smart mouth and her razor sharp tongue that she had rendered me useless. God! The things I wanted to do to that mouth and tongue of hers! No Angad, no. Stop thinking those kinds of thoughts. This was a disaster of a marriage, reminded my mind to keep my control.
Inadvertently, my eyes roamed and took in her full feminine form, stopping at her navel. My breathing hitched. I should have tried one of those dainty diamond chain kamarbands on her slim waist from the new jewelry collection. This was it! It was torturous. How can I stop these thoughts? Ever since I became aware of her truth, and her real personality, my heart slips and lands with a thud just like it did now. It seems as if my heart was telling me that if there was a disaster, it was only me at the moment with the havoc of new found feelings for a certain ‘Heartist’ who was cruelly oblivious to my chaotic state of mind and body. Long cold showers, here we go again tonight.
Hindi TV Shows
