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So hi people :)
It's been a while and I've been a bit bored so decided to post something. (Don't worry I'm currently in the process of updating my other stuff.)
So anyway, I just happened to be listening to a song that I fell in love with at age eleven - Rob Thomas 'Little Wonders'. It's beautiful, all about second chances and moving on so this kinda sparked into my head. I love my VV's, and realised that I hadn't actually written something entirely about them, so I HAD to change that.
I am the BIGGEST Coldplay fan so I've decided to call this Violet Hill - doesn't really relate with the story, but gosh, just love Coldplay :P
So yeah here goes - WARNING - this may be confusing, don't worry, it's confusing to me and to be honest I'm not even that pleased with it, just wanted to get something out because I haven't for a while. To be frightfully honest, it isn't good at all; too many loose ends - will deffo come back to it in the future...
Do Read/Like/Comment/Review [=
Violet Hill
He stood in the mirror, silently adjusting the collar of his jacket. Mentally taking a picture of the card jammed into the side of the mirror, he ran his hand through his gelled back hair. He shook his head violently before again gazing back into the eyes of the man in the mirror. A flurry of emotions ran through them, none of them registering. He deftly outstretched the pads of his fingers, his mind lost in some distant world.
"Virat. Come on, it's time." Viren stood with both hands tucked into his pockets, his face expressionless. Virat glanced at his brother through the mirror, the three piece black tailored suit draped effortlessly around his figure. Virat mused at his own thoughts; the artlessly styled hair enhanced the school boy charms of his elder brother's features. Viren studied the face in the reflection before turning his gaze towards the open balcony.
His feet made their way to the spacious balcony; the glorious sunlight fell on his face as he blinked away the momentary instant of blindness as the emerging picture of a pristine valley and gentle mountain slopes came to light. He took in every fleeting detail of the peaks of the mountains and the burrowing buildings within Mussoorie's pureness. Taking in a deep breath, he cast his thoughts back to the yesterdays...
"Vikram! How dare you! Where are my values, my traditions, and my legacy which I imbibed in you? You are not my son; any child of mine would never humiliate me to such levels. I expected so much of you, but what have you given me in return for the last twenty-five years I've put in to you other than utter disgrace." Vijay Singh Vadhera's voice rang out throughout the open hall leaving a trembling five year old cowering in the arms of his older brother.
The seven year old Viren held Virat, silently praying their chosen place for hide and seek would not be found by an extremely angry Dadaji. From behind the towering settees, Viren could register the quiet mumblings of his father; "Papa, please don't say that. Whatever I did, I did it to build my own name, my own reputation – isn't that what you've always taught Di, Inder and I? That we should strive to create our own world, on the strengths of our own backs... Papa that's exactly what I did.
"The Vadhera name had become a curse for me; I needed to get out of it somehow... I never meant to humiliate you; I just needed to do this on my own, without all the prestige and honour of the Vadhera name following me. Please Papa, I never meant to hurt you; I just wanted to set my own legacy for Viren and Virat." Vikrams eyes bore into his fathers, trying with every might to break through the wall of emotions.
"What you have done, I will never forgive you for! You don't have any right to call me 'Papa'; you forsook your own name, my name, and your heritage for what? Your legacy? If you have no respect for me, or my family, then you can get out!" Vikram's heart sank as he tried to make sense of the words escaping his father's lips. "Papa, come on, you don't mean that. I'm your son; yes I made a mistake, yes I lied but my reasons for it weren't to hurt anyone. Pap-"
"Vikram! Did I not just say, don't call me 'Papa' and here you still are? I've had it with you; is this some sort of joke or game with you? You've never respected me, never respected this family's name or traditions. You are not and never were a Vadhera! Get out!" Vijay's face was burning a bright crimson as the anger boiled through his veins, all the while, too preoccupied to notice the silent figure standing in the doorway. Swamini spotted the two boys cradled against each other on the floor; her heart sank as she registered the looks of anxiousness and despair on their faces. She swiftly made her way to the trembling children before bending down and picking up Virat whilst extending her hand out to Viren.
"Enough! I've had it with both of you! How much longer will this go on? Vikram, you claim to be doing this for your kids, but have you ever stopped to think how this is affecting them? And Bauji; life does not revolve around honour, glory or reputations - when will you realise that?" Without a second glance, she strode down the narrow corridor to the rooms of the boys. Vikram memorised the faces of his son's as they passed him by, the expressionless eyes of Viren and the traumatised eyes of Virat horrified him.
Vikram found his feet moving him towards the door; he desperately needed to think as he braved the cold crisp air to get into his car. The smallest flakes of snow started flowing down, landing on his cheek. Turning back towards the house, he caught sight of the small figure of Viren staring out of the second floor window, waving his small arm back and forth. He outstretched his own arm, waving at the tiny form in the window leaving the child sporting a lopsided grin. Viren watched as the car sped down the drive and on to the winding Mussoorie roads as the mountains and valley became enshrouded in snow.
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Virat was awoken by the bright sunlight which had seeped through the thick curtains. He turned to his right in search of his ever present partner; Viren had his face buried between two pillows as he carried on sleeping. Virat slowly made his way out of the large bed towards the curtain covered windows, trying to walk the sleep out of him. He gasped as he laid eyes on the scene in front of him; his eyes shone with excitement.
Without thinking, he turned and vaulted on to the bed, terrifying Viren awake. "Virat! What happened?" The spindly seven year old shot up as he laid eyed on his younger brother, bewilderment clear on his face. "Bhai! You've gotta see outside, it's amazing." The grin enveloping Virat's face enticed Viren out of the bed and towards the window where he too felt his jaw drop in admiration. The snow covered scenery had created the most beautiful winter wonderland for the two boys.
A overjoyed Virat had already placed on his jacket and hat, making his way to the door. "Virat! Wait for me. Besides you need to wear shoes!" Viren grabbed his own coat, gloves and shoes whilst he followed the half-run, half-walking figure of Virat. He called out a few more times, to rejoice at seeing the halted form of Virat standing in the opening to the hall, before he himself caught sight of the scene before them.
Virat was mystified by the uncontrollable sobs being emitted by his mother and the silent tears cascading down his grandfather's cheeks. And neither could Viren comprehend the complex scene playing out in front of their eyes.
Viren found himself staring out towards the same spot where he had witnessed his father's car disappear round eighteen years ago. Letting out a deep breath, he felt the firm grip of Virat on his shoulder as he gazed on towards the horizon. "I was the last one to see him alive; our faces were the last he saw on this earth... Sometimes I wonder if this is really it, if there is actually a higher calling in our lives which we just haven't realised just yet. Virat, what do you think? He gave everything for us; will we ever be able to live up to his legacy?"
He turned towards the pondering Virat who glanced between the winding roads of the mountains and the calm and focused eyes of his brother. "You know what Bhai, ever since we were kids, snow would do it for me. Every time I see the snow, it's like he's here; he never left. We are his legacy Bhai, he'd have loved us unconditionally, been proud of us no matter what. I know that right now he's looking down at us, wondering how the years just flew by; his boys are all grown up... all grown up without him... It hurts me to know that he's going to hurt for eternity because he couldn't be here. We grew up without him... without... a father..."
Virat's voice faltered as the lump in his throat grew, he looked away from the picturesque view before finding his inner strength failing. Collapsing into his brother's arm, he let free the emotions that had been building over the last few years. Viren found the tears in his eyes overcoming the barrier of his eyelids as he held onto Virat tightly, all the while rubbing soothing circles into his back. Virat consoled himself before wiping the tears out of his eyes, knowing they were already late.
Grabbing the card from the mirror, the brothers made their way out of Virat's room towards the hall where they were met with expectant gaze of their mother. Her small smile led to the boys engulfing her into a bear hug as the silent tears flowed down her cheeks. "He'd be so proud of you boys; always and forever." The boys released her as she caressed their cheeks. Viren managed a soft smile as he made his way through the doors, being closely followed by Virat and Vanshika.
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Virat made his way up the steep hill, impatient to reach the top. As the toughest part of the climb subsided to an open plain, Virat caught sight of the grand tree that stood independently surrounded by small figures. Looking up at the sky, he smiled to himself as the cool breeze blew through his hair. Taking a glance behind him at the slowly emerging figures of Viren and Vanshika, he decided on sprinting towards the tree where the rest of the group had assembled. He couldn't stop the emerging grin from his face as he caught sight of the majestic willow tree as it swung with the breeze.
Inder smiled at Virat whilst motioning to the laid out blanket covered with containers and baskets of food. "You took your time; look your Bua and your Chachi have already got the whole picnic sorted out." Virat surrounded Inder with his arms catching him unaware before placing himself between Swamini and his Dadaji. Viren and Vanshika made their gradual way over to the seated party grinning at the randomness of the conversations. "So, what are you guys up to then?" Vanshika looked expectantly towards Shlock.
"Nothing Ma, just Shlock and Chachu thought that my band is a bracelet. Can I just reiterate this; it's a man band, not some girly-wirly bracelet. Besides Ma, Bhai, everyone, it's time for my card." Virat brought out the card from his inside pocket, looking expectantly towards the assembled group:
"'Papa, first, Happy Birthday. I think most people stop celebrating this day after their father has died but we still mark this day. Like it or not, sons who have lost their fathers can't stick their head in the sand and pretend birthday's don't bring a flood of memories to the surface. I've been thinking today about what I wanted to tell you. It has been more than seventeen years since you died. A lot has changed. Do you get the news up there in Heaven? Is it via Google? Newspapers? I know you liked to read two or three daily newspapers, a habit – one of many – that I picked up from you and continue to this day. Well, in case you do not get the news up there here are a few things that will make you laugh.
'There's a thing called global warming which is gonna destroy the planet, but before that, the world is gonna end on the 21st of December this year; well according to the Mayans. Well enough about that, life has moved on so much since you passed. Papa, you're still alive today in us; I know I was only five but your memory still lives on in me, Bhai and all our stories. It doesn't take a genius to realise we still miss you so much, but we know that wherever you are, you're looking down on us and hopefully you're proud of me and Bhai. You know Bhai over here, yeah him; he still starts and finishes every task with your name. We haven't forgotten you, and I pray we never will...
'I still remember when you used to take us with you to all those different places every Saturday; Saturday was your time with the boys. I can't explain how invaluable those times were; you gave me the understanding I needed in life. The respect I have for others, I learned that from you Papa. I remember when we'd go to the church or the mosque or the temple; when you'd take us to watch games or help out in the local charities. You were the greatest man I ever knew, even if I knew you very briefly.
'When you look down at us, I hope you're happy with us; everybody's tried their best, but it just isn't the same without you. Bua and Chachu think about you all the time, and Shlock? We're keeping all your memories alive in him; he's never met you but he knows everything about you. And Ma; she'll love you till the day she dies, as will we all. Even though Dadaji hasn't said anything, I know his heart's still broken, but you don't worry, me and Bhai will everything right. You see, we're all grown up. It's weird how the years just fly by like that. I love you Papa, and I miss you.'"
Virat ended his letter feeling the comforting hand of Viren placed on his shoulder. "We miss you..."
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