ff: ''a many splendoured thing", update pg. 102 - Page 5

prem lounged on the sofa listening to his mother chatter with a smile on his face. he had been pre-occupied when he had walked in a couple of hours earlier, his mind racing on the problems of financing the cathedral project. harman had called them together for a chat before he had left -- the realtor of the second property they were considering had brought up more trouble for the project. but preet had made a convincing argument that it was the most appropriate of the three they were considering. and prem had promised to work harder on the finances to smooth out their acquiring the landrights on the spot.

but their mother was never one to let her children stew on their own. she had always maintained that sharing always made the problem seem less imponderable. by the time, he had laid out the new version of the cathedral project to her, he had already compiled a list of people to contact, and mailed them to preet and harman on his iphone. they would be a good place to start to unravel this knot.

he watched his mother's gentle face and thought of how lucky they had been to have her. all her life, she had not done much more than be his father's wife, and their mother. yet that could not be a very small thing because she was at the heart of the sum and essence of who they were.

he remembered that she had been the one who was calm and centered when his father died. their mother had given them two months to deal on their own. she had watched as they made a mess of it. preet who had already been shaken with one loss, had threatened to go to pieces with the loss of his idol. harman had withdrawn into himself -- for months after the funeral, he had stayed away from the brownstone. he, himself, had willingly walked into a whirlwind of work that did not give him time to think. it had been almost impossible to take on so many projects, with deadlines and schedules that overlay one over the other so tightly, that the only way he could deal with it was to sleep under two hours every night.

the juneja boys had not dealt with their father's death very well at all.

finally, she had taken matters into her own hands to set them right again. she had firmly, without warning or conversation, walked out of the brownstone one day. he still remembered the shock of walking back home one late night, exhausted, stretched mentally and physically, all set to fly out in three hours, being greeted by a hysterical preet who was convinced that their mother had vanished. left. committed suicide. by the time, prem had calmed him down and called harman, his mind had stopped twisting in that first rush of panic. the sense of relief that had flooded him when he walked into her room and found missing clothes was immense. even preet could be persuaded that people who wanted to kill themselves were not likely to pack clothes for it.

harman had had the brain wave of calling at their old house, the first one that his father had bought when the firm began to make money. the dour housekeeper, who had been there all their life and who probably could not see them beyond their avatar running around the garden in shorts and slippers, had first roundly told him off for not taking care of his mother at such a time. when she finally calmed down, she had told him that their mother had asked for all of them.

the visit to the old house had been a catharsis for them all. preet had spent the whole night crying in her arms, finally falling asleep on her lap, looking like he was three again for all that it was worth. harman had talked of his father, his encyclopedic memory drawing up the good times, and the bad times, the funny stories and the sad ones, sitting at her feet. he had not said much. but as he had sat opposite them, watching them, he had realised that not all the work in the world was as precious, as interesting, as wonderful, as soul-sustaining as that moment of time with those three people who mattered to him the most in the world. he had walked out of that moment, woken his long-suffering secretary up at 2am, and had given her the impossible task of rescheduling his calendar to give him two days of time. with her plaintive wails ringing in his ears, had walked back into that room to rebuild his family again.

when they left the house two days later, the boys were still upset at their mother's decision to not return to the brownstone. but they could understand her need for a little space and time away. ''lj & sons, ltd.'' had built several properties in the city. she had chosen an apartment in one which was twenty minutes away by the metro, and ten minutes away by cab, and her sons were content to let her take her time to adjust to a life without her husband, before she walked back to help them with theirs.

it was nearly a year since that day, and the healing had gone well for all of them. at first, the boys had practically spent most of their time with her in this apartment. of the three, it had been preet who had been the last to break off. it was odd, prem mused as he watched his mother bustle, clearing his tea cup, calling him into dinner. all his life, he remembered preet and his mother at logger heads with each other. she had never understand preet's cavalier attitude to his studies. and preet had taken an almost sadistic pleasure in seeing his mother explodein helpless frustration at his continued defiance. but they two were really the most like each other. both were sociable, imaginative, impulsive, quick to temper and quick to forgive -- and idolised lalit juneja. harman had been more like his father, practical, grounded, slow to anger, focussed. for a long time, everyone expected harman to turn architect and take over the firm. it had been a universal surprise when preet had filled that role. harman had excelled in the area of corporate law with his focus and drive, so like his father's, that everyone agreed that harman was most like his father among the sons.

and he? he did not know where he fit, or who he was like. but it never bothered him much. all he needed to know was that they all loved him, needed him,  considered him an integral part of their lives. and that all his happiness depended upon the happiness of this set of people. and with that, he knew he was content.

over dinner, prem updated his mother on the activities at the brownstone. she was the chairperson on the board of ''lj & sons, ltd.'' and had always had a keen interest in the firm. she knew all their 36 employees by name, and kept abreast of all the important events in their lives.

''did charles get that promotion? he had been working so hard on that contract -- he must have been over the moon when they finally signed.'' prem nodded, his mouth full of mishti dahi. he knew that she kept in touch with everyone regularly. even though jaunita was quite capable of cooking for them, his mother showed up regularly twice a week to have dinner with her sons. she said it was an excuse for her to check on what her children were doing with her husband's hard earned savings. they all knew it was an excuse for her to check on whether her children were eating well, were sleeping well, and were happy.

''now. tell me  -- what made preet suddenly take up the cathedral project again? i wasn't sure that he was ready for something so close to his father's dreams?''

''oh, because of the tresspasser.  no, no,..'' he grinned as she looked up in alarm. ''the garden gate had been left open when the gardners came in, and this ... girl walked into the garden.'' prem fought mentally to shake off the memory of those long dark eyes looking up at him through the strands of hair waving in the breeze, tumbling down her shoulders, brushing his arms as he had held her. ''apparently, she had gotten sight of the cathedral, got curious and took advantage of chance for a closer look.''

''just like that..?'' curiousity warred with indignation in her eyes. it was unusual for people to violate privacy so casually in this country.

''yes, just like that.'' there was a strange new light in his eyes that his mother found intriguing. ''apparently she is a painter, an artist. i caught her poking around, and she was startled into running away. left her bag there, though -- came back for it the next morning. preet was so impressed by her sketches that he took her down to see it, and... what can i say, ma? there is something about the way she sees that cathedral of dad's. even i could see it in her sketches. so you can imagine preet's reaction when they met. she has got his mind fired up in just a week. i haven't seen him like this in a long while.''

his mother listened quietly. ''and you? you met her -- what did you think? have you talked with her?''

prem was seeing those big eyes again in his mind. ''no... i have not really talked with her.'' he said slowly.

''well then, maybe we should all meet her.'' she was firm. ''the cathedral was your father's pet project. and he had always involved all of us. i remember how much preet and your father used to discuss and argue about the cathedral. if this artist walks in out of nowhere and can become the motivation for preet to work on this project again, i think that i too should meet this tresspasser of yours.'' 

prem sighed as he pushed him chair back from the table and rose to his feet. '' she is not my tresspasser, ma. and of course, dad's project was our project. actually, i'm afraid that it's my fault that we haven't organised a meeting yet. i've been taken. and i'm still taken. we all looked at our schedules, and mine is the one that has the least space to move around with. i'll see if pari can work some more magic and squeeze some space next week. in which case, we'll set something up then?''

''just tell me when, darling.'' they walked out together into the foyer, prem stretching his arms high above his head, to ease his tired muscles before reaching for his jacket.

''prem, you must take some time to relax, darling.'' she scolded gently as she watched him rub the muscles at the back of his neck.

he twinkled back at her. ''i have been relaxing, my worry-ma. thanks to your youngest, i spent all day in the garden, working on the east-corner of the cathedral with soni and rajat. today was all just sweat, and grunts, and all such relaxing things.'' he didn't include that strange moment in the afternoon when he had been sure he was being watched -- his mother had been alarmed enough by the idea of a tresspasser. he didn't want to alarm her even more. as he leaned over to hug and kiss his mother, he caught sight of a little woven basket on the foyer shelf.

''jasmine?'' he was momentarily distracted.

his mother laughed and patted his cheek. ''you are not the only person buying me flowers anymore darling. you've neglected me for so long that i've found someone else.'' prem's deepset eyes looked searchingly at his mother, making her laugh so hard she couldn't speak.

jaunita came in, putting on her jacket, ready to leave back to the brownstone with prem, joining in on their conversation. ''oh, the jasmine, mr. prem?  heer dropped that off a little while ago.''

''heer was here?'' there was a lilt to gayatri's voice that her son had not heard in a while. ''why didn't she come in and join us?''

''you know how she is, mrs. j.  she wanted to rush off the moment she heard that you had a visitor.'' the two women clucked and shook their heads together in exasperation. ''actually, she did look quite exhausted. she said she would fall asleep at the table, and would rather do that in her bed.''

''heer?'' prem was still distracted by the idea that someone else was buying his mother flowers.

''my neighbour. she has been here for quite a while; she doesn't move out much. or at least, didn't used to. i think she has faced some terrible tragedy. not that she said much. but her uncle was here the other day, and talked about heer losing her entire family around two years ago in a car accident. she has been our tenant for a year, but i had never seen her or met her before. apparently, she cut herself off from everyone and everything in this apartment. poor little thing.'' gayatri's face was soft. ''she is so alone. and it is so difficult to fight life when you are alone, no?'' prem could not dispute that.

''so how did you meet her then?''

''i guess she is finally learning how to cope with it.  certainly she has found something to do over the last month. she has been leaving the apartment early, coming back late. and keeps forgetting her keys in her apartment. rather than bother the super, she asked whether she could leave a pair with me. and i couldn't say no to her, prem.  she has been so sweet -- she helps with dinner sometimes, walks me to the metro sometimes.'' she said beseechingly at prem's stern look. ''darling, if you had just seen her the first time she came -- she looked so starved. of food, of companionship, of love -- i couldn't help but agree.''

prem's look at his mother held a look of old comprehension. ''never could resist a stray, could you, ma?  how many times must i tell you that strays might bite?''

''and how many times must i remind you that i'm the mother, and i know better?'' she tried to get stern back at him.

both knew that the sternness was an act. he knew that once she was involved, she was not going to stop from helping out someone she thought was deserving. and she knew that he would never stop her. but that he would do everything to make sure that she would not get hurt because of her sympathetic nature. she was sure that before he left the complex, he would have quizzed the security about heer and the manager for her references. that he would have left instructions to be informed about anything strange and untoward involving mrs. gayatri juneja's helpless neighbour. and that before she saw him next, he would have found out enough about heer's background to either comfort himself that his mother was not in harm's way, or that she would hear real warnings about staying away from heer.  they smiled at each other, in perfect accordance of each other's thoughts. prem kissed his mother goodnight one last time and left for home.

behind the other door on the floor that gayatri juneja lived, heer maan slept the sleep of the tired and the innocent, not knowing that fate had moved her a little more firmly towards the stranger with the deepset eyes who haunted her dreams.

heer worried a corner of her lip with her teeth as she stood by the easel in the garden next to the brownstone, her mind chasing many problems at once.

the first of it was when preet told her about the meeting with the board. one evening as she was packing up to leave, he had casually told her that she should bring by her resume.  heer had not wanted to look naive; before his death, her finances and projects had been handled by her father and uncle both. since the big blow out between them, and the accident that took her father away, she had not paid any attention to her life as a career artist. preet's request had come as a bolt out of the blue.

the second of it was the reason preet had wanted her resume -- the board of the firm wanted to meet with her. though preet was the director managing the firm, the board typically took a joint decision when it came to projects they launched. and this was a special project -- it was the dream of the founding director. and now, after his death, his firm would give his dream form to commemorate him. she thought it was wonderful how his son wanted to remember his father; to have the world remember his father.

what she did not quite appreciate was how much involvement that meant on her part. preet had told her that it was a small board -- his mother, two brothers and four others. and she had felt herself shrinking even deeper inside herself.

she had been hiding from life and all its related life forces. even now, she felt like hiding from crowds. because she felt a certain obligation rise up with terrifying force if she met someone's eyes. a responsibility for knowing them, for their cares, for their happiness if she made an effort to know them. if heer thought about it, it was not surprising that it was a structure of stone and light that had awoken her interest in life again. stone-and-light did not make your heart bleed if they were a project that was left unfinished. not like a father whose dreams she could now never fulfil. or a mother whose love she had waited to return. or a sister with whom she could never share laughter or sorrow.

no, she thought, standing stiff and rigid at the easel, waiting for shakti to call her into the meeting, she would not feel for people again; she could never bear the sorrow. the very thought of it was making her feel sick with the effort of keeping herself together. and as always, in times of distress, heer sought relief in her passion.

her eyes flashed to the unfinished stone structure standing in front of her. she had explored the few columns and the walls to her heart's content -- today, there was nothing new to distract herself from the darkness at the edges of her mind. but as she watched, a little robin flew from the inner beams, trilling a song on its way into the large oak tree, with it's lower branches stretching like the spokes of an umbrella over the cathedral. heer's eyes moved along the branches, and suddenly narrowed in speculation...

prem watched heer's still figure, as he stood at window in the board room.  the gentle buzz of conversation had not yet died down behind him. the board had been most enthusiastic about reviving the cathedral project. they had always seen it as a spectacular demonstration of the vision of the founder, and a wonderful calling card for the firm, once it got built. he had also been able to persuade them about tapping funds for the project. and preet's optimism about weaving in their trespasser's vision to complete the design blueprints had been infectious. stuart randall, one of the most respected heritage structure preservation experts in the country, had been especially drawn to the new ideas he had hinted at.

now, in the coffee break, they were all curious about the artist behind those ideas, which preet had worked in so well with his design. prem turned away from his scrutiny of heer and walked over to preet who was deep in conversation with jerry stiens, as they discussed the potential locations for the cathedral project.

''i think it's time to reconvene?'' preet looked up, disgruntled that his attention was broken. ''i was going to suggest that we bring her in, now, and give her some time to get introduced to the board, before the next presentation.''

''oh yes, of course,'' preet's reluctance to leave the conversation had prem grinning. ''i'll get shakti to get her.''

''no, it's alright.'' prem soothed his brother, ''i'll go. it'll give me a chance to say hi as well. you stay -- we'll be back in a bit.''

prem felt an unfamiliar knot of anticipation in his belly as he walked out onto the lawns and strode upto the scale model of her home-of-light.  over the last three days, he had run into several surprises about heer maan that he could've used as the excuse for the tight knot. but he knew that none of them was of as much importance as the memory of that first, brief but fiery run-in of theirs. he had believed himself to be a pragmatic person, grounded in the real-world much more than anyone else in his family. so he had shrugged off even the remotest possibility that he would ever run into the owner of those eyes again. and yet, the memory of those eyes had haunted him, refusing to leave him alone. and now, it looked like the fates had meant for her to be in his life.  he increased his stride, around the corner of the wall, behind which she was... and stopped abruptly.

her easel was there, but there was no girl. he looked behind him -- the gate was locked. and john-uncle had definitely motioned him towards the garden to find her. prem's brow furrowed in puzzlement. where was she?  he walked into the center of the cathedral, out of which she had darted out the last time. but she was not to be found there either. as he walked around, looking for her, he heard noises from the most unlikely place.

there was a rustling in the leaves of the oak tree above him. not the delicate rustling of the leaves in the wind, or the small sounds of squirrels dropping acorns. this was a more heavy sound. and as he looked up, he found the girl he was looking for.

heer was balancing herself on a sturdy branch, her finger tips on a branch above to steady her as she stood precariously looking straight ahead as if all she needed all her concentration to be there.

prem suppressed a grin, as he looked up at her, slim and strangely elegant, in her black trousers and silk shirt, hair caught up in a bun at her nape.  it looked like she hadn't seen him yet -- she was chewing her underlip trying to test the branch going forward.  as he watched, he saw her shake her head about going forward and then start trying to manouever herself to turn around back to the trunk.

she had almost managed to complete the turn back. and would've probably been okay, if john-uncle hadn't appeared at the garden door and bellowed ''prem!'' through the air. startled, she started swaying on the branch, her hands searching for purchase but not getting it.  she twisted as she dropped fifteen feet to the ground. prem's face went fierce with concentration as he ran forward to break her fall. she dropped neatly into his arms, and they went tumbling backward into the grass, his head crashing on the stones lying at the foot of the pile.

she lay against him, winded for a moment, feeling strangely comforted against the warm body under her.  she cautiously lifted her head,and looked straight into a face that was familiar to her from her dreams: the beaked nose, the chiselled cheekbones, fierce eyes -- that were shut this time. ''god, i'm so sorry. i got startled and twisted on that last step.'' she started to scramble up off him, babbling in her confusion -- and stopped as she realised that he was not moving. it was then that she noticed that the stone his head lay against was glistening warm with the colour of blood.

heer went as pale as the man lying in front of her. ''oh my god. oh my god. i have killed him.'' she was gasping in her anxiety, trembling as she cradled the side of his head gently and turning it to gauge the damage. blood was pooling below the stone. through the mists that were beginning to cloud her vision, she remembered her first aid lessons about not moving someone who had a head injury.  but how did anything matter if he was dead?

her hand went to his chest, streaking blood on his shirt. she leant down over his face to check his breathing, her other hand scrambling to find a pulse along his neck. to her, it flet like ages,  but finally she could feel it, beating strong and fast. and when he groaned and turned his face towards her, she was so relieved that he was alive, that she whispered, ''thank you, thank you'' against his mouth, before laying her lips against his and kissing him deeply.

prem hadn't known that going to heaven involved so much pain. but he definitely liked the idea of being kissed by an angel.

and nope, before anyone asks -- still haven't seen the shows yet!  😆