Paint it Red - Vignette collection [Completed] - Page 2

4. Blood noir

"I have no mother!"

He slammed the door shut refusing to wait and explain the avalanche in his heart. Didn't Khushi know it was a touchy subject? Didn't Khushi know the complications of his past or at least guessed it? Why did she always push him to do something he doesn't want? Why did she harp on the same thing over and over again and then display hurt blatantly for telling her off?

Why the heck didn't she back off when he asked her to?

He opened the laptop and started typing on the email he had quit working on for few hours now. One of the earliest lessons he learned in his life was to never write emails or attend meetings when he was incredibly angry. It only made sensitive matters worse. He tried blocking out the images of his hurt mother-in-law and concentrated on the email he was working on but the soft opening of the door made him leave a frustrated sigh.

She had followed him. Of course.

There was roaring in his ears and frustration in his veins. He didn't hear her and by the looks of it, neither did she. He had seen her face soften when he explained her mother the reason behind his sudden generosity.

He was born in a privilege family where he didn't have to worry about basic necessities. As he grew up he realized that not everyone he knew could afford twenty four hours direct tap water or electricity. People had come to work around those problems like he had come to work around their point of views. It had taken patience of immense proportions when he started work not to fire a woman who was late to work because she missed the bus as water supply to her house was quite late that day. He had come to experience what he had heard and only read about it. It was affecting his life because he knew that as a society somehow everyone does get affected by a common problem - being privileged or not, had no impact on the causal effect.

However since he was now living the middle class life, he had experienced it first-hand.

He wasn't ashamed to admit that he didn't like it.

And he told her exactly that.

His heart clenched at the reaction her eyes immediately glazed with sheen of unshed tears. The slump of her shoulders drove machete on his sides twisting his gut and releasing tons of pain in its wake. He wanted to tell her about his point of view. He wanted to tell her that this was all new to him. He wanted to tell her that like her, he was adjusting to this. He wanted to tell her that he wanted to make it all better for her and her family. He wanted to tell her that it was okay to be proud of their circumstances and the work around solutions but they could accept help because he was her husband because he was her family too.  

Didn't she understand that? He wanted to be a part of her family. He tried in his own way to be that, the only way he knew - by providing comforts.

Yes, he thought. He believed her lifestyle was crap. There was no reason to accept things just the way they are. Why was it wrong to be ambitious? Why was it wrong to accept help from own family?

No, he had done what he believed was the right thing to do to his family.

But it was her who was always the first to tell him about her family by addressing as "we" and clearly keeping him out of it. She easily preached about lack of communication but didn't on many occasions allow him to finish his sentences. She claimed to be this person who understood everything and everyone yet when the moment came, her bias towards his past roared its head every possible time.

His face cracked when idle thought of being this relationship damaged and broken, passed. He allowed her to talk to him about her family, her economic status and her lifestyle. In the beginning he had used her lifestyle as a weapon against her to mock. And to his horror she had used the same in a self-deprecating pitiful manner. By looking the fire in her eyes he hadn't anticipated that. He sincerely believed she would attack his arrogant ass but she - disappointed him in that regard.

He was brought of his reverie when he heard the door slam shut. She had given him an earful and allowed him to wallow while she would ignore him till he pissed her off again.

Instead, he decided to make her happy.

Maybe then, they both could walk out of the circle they have drawn around them and just - talk without borders, bias or looming sense of wrongs.

Maybe then, even he could be happy.

I love these vignettes; there is something about them which makes me wish the serial had captured at least a percentage of it. Alas, we are asking for too much but you give us a wonderful view to the situation. Indifference hurts far more than hatred does it not and Arnav gets to know that best and from a person he loves to hate.

Coming to this scene, I was beyond disgusted with the way the folks at 4 Lions put it together to make Arnav seem like a privileged jackass and Khushi a silly twit. This shows us what the two are, people from two very different economic strata and how they think and function. It is never and I repeat never a question of right or wrong, moral or immoral, it is the way one views it. One man's meat is another man's poison at the end of the day.

Well written as always.

5. Cardinal Sin

The words rang in his ears, reverberating to the point that vertigo set him and he had to command his feet not lose its footing. Her accusations were all true but he hadn't fully thought or understood the implication of his actions; he had anticipated them, yes, but the hostility from both the families had come as a surprise to him. She was telling him off, demanding an answer, an explanation while his mind was stuck on an image of her and his brother-in-law hugging each other with brazen passion. She asked, no, yelled, for the umpteenth time.

"Why did you marry me at all?" Tears stood on the threshold of her eyelashes and anger tinted her cheeks. He caught both her arms harshly and shook her once.

Ambivalence set in his heart. It churned both anger and affection at the same time each taking a turn to reign over his emotions. While it scarred his innards when he heard that her mother had refused to talk to her and his aunt's burlesque countenance scalded her tender heart, the parting words between her and Shyam echoed in his ears marring the sympathy he was feeling towards her and stomped it to the ground. No, his heart vehemently denied; she didn't deserve this treatment. Yes, his mind counterbalanced; she deserved all this and much more.

She was to be punished for everything she was about to do and things she had said: Leave Anjali if you don't like her. Those words would forever haunt him.

Like always, anger won. His mind roared in red and blood gushed to his cheeks when the dichotomy of the moment culminated to singularity.

"Because I hate you," he hissed loudly.

He was surprised at his own admission. He was surprised at the way she stilled, her arms limp in his hands. He was taken aback at the unmitigated hurt and disappointment on her face. He was sure his face was reflecting exact same emotions. She stumbled a little as if he had physically hurt her. He felt as if his body was filled with void and someone was punching his stomach repeatedly because his body physically hurt. It pained. It ached. His heart screeched in agony and his throat clamped shut.

She recovered first. Ironic as it was, she delved into the reserve anger, hopelessness and residual heartache and found her strength there.

She had found her strength to utter the words that would completely shatter him.

She hated him too, she yelled it equally loudly. But she didn't stop at that. Khushi never did anything halfhearted. She went on to tell him that she didn't really hate him because of his actions. She hated him because as a human, he was capable of only that - someone's hatred.

The blows from her words were like a sword wounding his skin. He took it with broken heart and tearful gaze. If she had told him that she hated him and stopped at that, he would have been okay. He would have been alright and nurse his bruising heart for the rest of the evening. Maybe one day there would be redemption for all the toxic words he said. Maybe one day he would overrule his mind and listen to his heart and tell her everything; from the way she made him rethink the insults to way he would smile like an idiot.

But she had robbed him of the chance of doing anything of that sort in future. She had deemed worthless of love, care and affection.

She had in not so many words branded him as inhuman.

No, redemption would never come to him. Salvation was a distant dream.

He would live with her hatred without hoping for anything in return.

Redemption be damned.

Thanks for the scene recommendation Twiggy! Keep 'em coming. I think I will do another one for the same scene - the one that's prelude to the 'I hate you' one.