Ok I am strangely excited đ PS BB still waiting on the cover.
Ya'all should listen to this sick song which helped me with the story mood.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=66PdUOE6Tqw
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tV0kbqtOE80
It all started in her childhood.
As long as she remembered, they lived in a place where nobody was around for miles, it was cold and dark at worst and chilling, harsh wind blew at the best. Sun was up at some days, and the heat made her wish to go back to he days when she will shiver under piles of warm clothing. Fireplace would always burn in their small house. If she could see animals it would be a miracle. For 19 odd years of her life the only other person she knew was her Father.
And she knew nothing about him.
His day would start at 4am as he waits for her in their tiny kitchen, handing her over a steaming mug of black coffee. No sugar, no cream, no milk, and she had to gulp it at a boiling temperature. Then there would be running- miles and hours of it until her feet was numb. She was home-schooled, taught languages, geography, art, maths, science and people behavior. Once she looked up a thing called History, which her Father shut it down quickly- waste of time, he said. History was dead and long buried. He would let her be as she works and reads and he would shut himself in his room where she was never supposed to enter. She needed to wait until he comes out, even if she was cold, or she was hungry. Even if the fire was out and she could not find another log. They spoke about her study or the dayâs plan, and never about why they donât see anyone else or why they live in such a secluded place. Once in a week he would go out to buy food and she would be locked out, house dark, candle in her hand as she maneuver around the house.
At 19, she was allowed to enter his room.
It was fascinating, to see the least. There were files, pages, books, note books. And there was a thing called computer. She had never seen any gadget till then, and by the next couple of months she had mastered the gadgets- laptop, an Ipad, google mini, amazon alexa- and she had discovered social media sites- snapchat, instagram, youtube, tinder. She was only allowed to use them in front of him and was not supposed to search anything which he did not permit to. It was exciting and she looked forward to it every day.
She was informed that she needed to make new identities. Make up characters. Be so good that she forgot her own self and lived like them. She did not understand why, or even questioned. Her Father taught her and she learned. Practiced, until she could look in the mirror and could not see herself. Mannerisms, way of speaking, even posture was to be accurate as per the character. She would practice in front of a mirror with different dialect to judge her facial expression and her Father reflection would be there, blank and scrutinizing as usual.
At 22, her Father gave her a task.
Arnav Singh Raizada was a country heart throb with his good looks coupled with brooding, mysterious aura surrounding him. A family man who would give two times bonus during festivals and fund children education for his employees kids, he was also someone who splashed a girlâs photo across media as she dared to ruin his fashion show. Ruthless would be an understatement. Her father demanded her to know everything about him and she went down to work, voraciously going through his life story. Orphaned at a tender age, he had a big family which he looked after. The fashion company was collaborating with international artist left, right and centre and her Father told she was going to bump into Arnav during one of these tours.
Her heart thudded in her chest the night prior the meeting. She had never went out in her life. For all her life she knew this house, knew the books and knew her Father. All she learn from him, she was supposed to test out starting tomorrow and she did not even know why. But she knew one thing- failure wasnât an option.
Arnav Singh Raizada bumped into upcoming model Lavanya Kashyap in a small cafe of Milan one fine Thursday morning. She had twisted her heels and splashed coffee all over him, she apologized profusely as his bodyguards ran to fetch him tissue. He was curt but polite, and surprised her by offering her to have coffee. They sat together for 2 hours and exchanged numbers.
In 3 months, they became an couple.
She did not know what was expected from a romantic relationship. She would look around when she toured with Arnav in cities like Paris, Milan and Las Vegas and see couples holding hand and kissing. She would see men opening doors for the ladies and offering them drink. There would be exchanging gifts, whispered I love yous, twinkled eyes and rosy cheeks. With Arnav, there were curtsy and compliments, but no warmth. At first she chalked it upto her lack of knowledge about human relationship, but on some nights Arnav will come looking haggard, with bloodshot eyes, just sit in her living room couch and say nothing. She realized soon this man did not chose her to be a partner, just an escape from his demons- might be his childhood, or something new.
But the man did shower her with gifts, probably to hide the fact he had nothing else to offer her other than monetary value. She had a 3BHK apartment in Mumbai, with gorgeous ocean view and rooftop pool. She had cars, expensive jewellery, bodyguards. Lavanya Kashyap would spend her time on Instagram live, visiting salons and spa, attending fashion designers to wear their sponsored clothes. She was airheaded enough to chat away even if Arnav was downright rude to her and at times looked at her he despised everything about her.
Her Father had given her a burner phone and every morning she would stare at it, hoping for a way of communication from him. There was nothing.
One evening, Arnav dropped a bomb on her by declaring she was to be meeting his family as they are pressurizing him for marriage. In typical Lavanya fashion she dramatically freaked out, but internally she was frozen. She still did not know what was the purpose of this game and what if Raizadas actually plan the wedding? Her lies wonât take her till the end. She ran towards her bedroom, took out the burner phone, and violated the rule number 1- never contact him unless itâs urgent, or her cover is blown.
He picked up almost immediately and scolded her for her stupidity once she stuttered through the situation.
âFoolish girl! This is what you contacted me for? So what Raizadas want to meet you? Whatâs the issue?â
âMarriage, Papa!â
âDonât fret.â He snapped and she went quiet. âMeet them, impress them. We will see.â
Whatever the hell it was supposed to be mean, he never explained. Just cut the call and let her stew in silence.
The Raizadas hated her.
She would look at the calm composed âBoyfriendâ of hers saying itâs fine, donât worry and suspect this is exactly what he was hoping for. Sure, Arnav took her side and told others she is his choice, but he was a family man in the end. The family might have pressurized him for marriage and she was introduced, and she was not fooled thinking this is what he wants. But she also dreads his giant ego- what if he actually goes ahead with the âweddingâ. Her head hurts thinking about it.
Also there was this other girl.
Khushi Kumari Gupta spoke a lot. She was the proper, pious girl whom the Raizadas actually adored and wanted Lavanya Kashyap to be, so she was hired to groom her. To mould her into a perfect Raizada Daughter-in-law. There were also these heated staring contests between Arnav and her when they thought nobody is looking. Arnav hated her guts, hated how others adored her, hated her barging into his room and lecturing about giving time to family. He would rant to Lavanya, La as he calls her, hours about Khushi. It was almost as if he was hiding something else under that dislike.
The ridiculous grooming sessions came to an end when Raizadas decided Lavanya was perfect enough to be introduced to the society. The Diwali party was fixed as a date to announce the engagement, and her heart wasnât the only one thudding- Arnav looked nervous for some reason, and Khushi looked sad. It came to heed when the family along with guests went outside to see the firecrackers bursting, as she witnessed the other two sharing an almost kiss in a corner. She watched, fascinated- this is what romance looked like, she mused. Arnav stopped at the last moment, god know why, and stormed out, and Khushi looked dazed.
Then she noticed her and stared back in horror.
The announcement never happened as Lavanya, pretending to be betrayed and hurt, ran from the party towards the office of Raizada Enterprises. She was known enough in the office that Security let her into Arnavâs office, also offered Green tea in sympathy as tears run down her cheeks, probably thinking their rude boss made her cry. She took out tissues from her bag, also a small hard drive. Discreetly, she put it into Arnavâs machine and proceeded to sniffle.
After a while the intercom chimed and she was informed a certain Khushi Kumari Gupta was here to meet her. She sighed- Arnav probably did not even notice, neither did he care. But she did enjoy internally as Khushi stammered and assured her it was a mistake, and Arnav loves only the other woman. A look of pain flashed on her face as she speak and words halted, but Lavanya only leaned on the chair and listened, then raised her hand, signaling the other woman to stop.
âI might look like an idiot, but I am not Khushi.â She spoke softly, but even in her ears she could feel the ruthlessness she had picked up from her Father and Arnav, âThis will not happen again. Is that understood?â Khushi nodded at that after a long time, probably dazed she called her name other than Chamkili and Lavanya escorted her out, telling the security to drop her home. She hung around for more time- inside Arnavâs cabin, in the reception, massaging her feet as they hurt from the heels. She took the pen drive when her work is done, thanked the staff and headed towards her apartment.
2 days later, her Father messaged her to end this, and Arnav messaged her to meet him in his Family house. In her guts she knew what it was going to be and she was strangely relieved. She got to go home, Arnav would get his freedom and might pursue the one his heart desires, it was a win win for everyone. She internally enjoyed Arnavâs nervousness also the determination to end this as gently to her as possible, and she decided it was enough of Lavanya Kashyapâs bimboness. It was a character break, but she comforted him and told him she understands, patted his hand and kissed his cheek one last time.
Downstairs, she declared to the family that she could never be what they wanted out of her, and she canât live her life with incompatible family such as this. It was a fine dramatic moment of her life when she made a show of breaking up with Arnav, who, wisely, remained tight lipped otherwise and shut down others when they tried to criticize her. Khushi looked on, feeling guilty. Arnav helped her in packing, walked till his car with her luggage and asked her to message him once she reached London, both of them hugging one last time. Both of them knew this was not going to be a friendship after the way it ended and she was never going to reply him.
As the car started, she saw Khushi running after it calling out her name and she sighed. Tears streamed down her face as she said sorry over and over again, clearly blaming herself for the fallout.
She surprised her with a hug and whispered in her ear, âListen to your heart, Khushi. Pursue it.â Kissed her cheek, then sat inside the car.
Inside the airport, she tore her tickets and then walked into the washroom, changing to her old familiar clothes and wiping off makeup. With each layer, Lavanya Kashyap ceased to exist.
She lived her old life for a few years. No outside contact, no gadgets, nothing, only her and her Father. It was almost like she never lived the life of Lavanya Kashyap. Sometimes she was tempted to look up Arnav, see if he has chased what he wanted and if he is happy, but there was no way to do so. She inquired her Father about the pen drive but he answered nothing, shutting himself more and more in his room as time passed.
After a while, he ordered the running to be less and started to teach her self defence. It started out rough, her trying to save herself from his clutches, then to seriously damage him. But whenever she would use her full force he will let go and look at her sternly.
âDonât use full force. You are a woman. You are expected to be weak and have less power.â He would bind her with both arms until she could not breath, ribs throbbing painfully under his inhuman strength even in this age, âYou will not harm. You will struggle and when the other side thinks you are giving up, you will use the opportunity to be free. But never hurt. You will not hurt someone.â
He allowed her to go out for the first time, ordering her to observe how a quiet, demure woman is supposed to behave. Another character study. She walked into the market her Father had frequented, fascinated at the hustle bustle, and sat in a corner to observe people. One woman caught her eyes- head covered under a shawl, her long curly hair peeking out, the woman was buying fruits. She walked with hunched shoulder, treading lightly as if not to hurt the earth, head down, eyes downcast. She walked carefully as to not brush with anyone else, she walked slowly, unhurried. It was the perfect subject, and over the couple of weeks she went to Market just to observe the lady. Once she was done with the observation, she would practice in the mirror. From the look in her Fatherâs face, he was content with the progress.
This time, she knew what she was walking into.
Emergency Task Force was a newly created and understaffed organization where she was supposed to enter as a Research Analyst. Riya Mukherjee, this was supposed to be her name, as she rolled her tongue over the syllables to familiarize it. Her Father had a file for the three men of the core team with whom she was supposed to work- Sameer Damsingh Rathore, the Chief, Shreekant Sen, the IT head, and Chandrakant âChotuâ Patil, the commando. It was only because of Shree, a bengali born and brought up in West bengal that she had to fluently learn the language, as her Father said Bengalis loved to communicate in their language. The character was made up till the minuscule details- what to wear, what to eat, how to behave, how to talk, how to walk, even the speech. The statistics was her Fatherâs idea and she read through random books to get knowledge about the topic.
He informed her about the agenda the night before she was leaving for Mumbai.
âMumbai is an unforgivable place, a city which never sleeps. You will be alone, on your own. Do not contact me. Be close to the team, so close that they are comfortable enough to share their life story as well as mobile password with you. Donât overpower them, donât demean them. Be kind, be soft. Talk but never reveal. Be humble, behave like a subordinate. When the time comes, you do what you were told.â
Riya Mukherjee became instant best friends with her colleagues on her first day in ETF. The trio, as they were came to be known, would always be seen together, sharing jokes and food, but serious at work. The Chief was strict but kind, and would always greet her even if ignores the other two. He also had a good sense of wit and sarcasm which would come out if they are behind paperwork. She was known as the statistics girl, who will stay late in office to finish work, bring food for her two best friends, provide coffee for the team and keep balance in the team. A nurturer, Chotu once called her, and she could be out of character she would have scoffed in that. But she gave a shy smile and accepted his thanks.
One fine morning ETF was greeted with a tough case-kidnapping of Sheen, DIG Coelhoâs daughter. The team went to handle the case with high priority, and naturally the consoling and comforting part fell on her as the Mother sobbed on her shoulder, lamenting. Once she could take a break from the emotions running, her eyes fell on a suspicious looking man lurking outside. Riya was supposed to be inquisitive, so she went out, Gun pointing, even though she knew nothing about handling the machine nor had any intention to use it.
What transpired was a grave mistake on her part. The man had turned and it was like a fighting session with her Father, difference was this man clearly holding back his full strength. When she had freed herself and wheeled around to face him then she realized her error- Riya Mukherjee knew self defence, but she was not supposed to attack. She was supposed to free herself and move away, not look him right in eyes in anger.
She had almost gave herself away at this mistake when the team mates arrived, saving her. Turned out, this man known as ACP Arjun Suryakant Rawte was also going to be a part of the case. Her humiliation knew no bound, and to make it worse she was near him many times- Rathore Sir told her to stay with him, Arjun keeping her red clip in pocket and then asking for her pen, him looking at her and rolling eyes at her statistics. But, like all good stories and bad nights, this also passed. Sheen was rescued and the man walked off into the sunset, and even though her heart was strangely sad, it was relieved.
When she tried to analyse why she was sad, she told herself it was because of her poor girls they rescued.
She messaged her Father that night, âA heads up would have been nice.â He called back immediately and she ranted about the new man, the ACP. He listened intently and chuckled at the end.
âSo he has entered.â
âYou know him?â She was surprised and curious.
âHe was mentioned in the file of Rathore.â He had made files on everyone. âNothing to worry about. He is not going to stick around.â
Few days later, ACP Rawte was an official part of ETF and she vowed herself to be in character. But the man was infuriating with his âdonât careâ attitude, poker face and blatant disregard for others emotions, hence sarcasm sometimes got the better of her. But there was a limit- she was the subordinate. The good girl who would mischievously smile at her friends as they badmouth the seniors but never uttering any words herself. She would order his Cutting chai, have discussion near coffee machine about him being able to see things others miss, sometime blow his mind off with her tricks and tell him never to underestimate womanâs capability. Itâs like when she was with him, she was a different person, coming alive.
It was a dangerous, wicked game to play.
Her eyes will find him in a sea of crowd during Ganapati Visarjan and she would close her eyes to pray, actually pray, for his safety, even keeping a coin in his pocket. She would seek him out when he storms out of a room, not letting his harsh demeanour affect her, but listening to his wise words as if he had lived a thousand years on this Earth. When he put himself in danger, or bleed, it felt as if she was hurt too. Often she would find her eyes wet and she would stare at the teardrop on her fingers, wondering why it was so. Sometimes she felt he was at blame too- if he would not have let her get away with taunting him back, or push away when she came to seek him, she would have been cautious. But it was like a free fall, with no end in sight.
And then one day she goofed up the delicate balance between them by mistakenly printing his wifeâs murder details.
If it was possible, he would have murdered her. Those were actual tears due to his behavior because she was used to him looking at her differently, also there was anger that her Father never gave her a heads up on this man. For weeks she ran after him, genuinely regretting her action and wanting to apologize, but like the ACP Rawte who walked into ETF the first day, he had gone back to his shell, cold and detached. He snatched away her temporary solace and there was nothing she could do other than to watch.
But time heals all wound, and there tender camaraderie was growing back after painful months of silence and anguish. Moth and flame analogy is overrated in the books Riya Mukherjee is supposed to read, but she felt like one when she could not help but look at him when he walks into a room, notice his expression or reach out to him when he is in discomfort. Her âcrushâ was widely known in the office and she was mercilessly teased about it, and true to her character, she simultaneously brushed it off even if she blushed, often scolding her friends for the comments. In night when she was all alone in her office allotted quarter, she played the dayâs event and realized this was something she had never felt before. This was not planned.
But then, she had not known much.
Riya Mukherjee was supposed to learn how to shoot a Gun and keep it in her locker, never using it. She was also supposed to be in office, behind desk. But ETF is understaffed; Shree fills in for part time photography and ACP Arjun does forensic, hence she also tags along for the interrogation. What she did not plan for was to jump in for action, actually killing people. Her Father did not teach her to do that. Scared out of her wits and unfamiliar with the gunshots flying around, there was no surprise Arjun had to rescue her, and then bashed her for the weakness. He was right on his part, but it stung nonetheless. She practiced on the shooting until she was perfect, hoping the situation wonât repeat again. But she had underestimated Arjun Rawte if she had thought under those taunts he would actually give up on her. That stupid, brave man waited amidst bullets and danger until she could save him, and she did, killing a goon in the process.
She did not cry in the shower because she killed a man- it was because of the reason. What Arjun said was nothing new, she did shoot to save him; she saved his life and chose him over some thug. In a way, there should not have been any second thought. The fact that she never killed anyone before should also be concerning, but what ate away at her core is that she chose to save him. Him. Her boss, and something else. He mattered to her that much that she would do this, take another life.
Her hands shook for a week post that.
She begged her Father to let her go, and predictably, he refused. Frustrated, she yelled at him, âWhat is more important than me? Than your own daughter?!â To which he went silent, then cut the call. She cried herself to sleep, dreading to go office everyday and face him. The mask was slipping away each day, she was distracted enough that everyone noticed. Her friends chalked it up to family issue which she did not correct, shooting her sympathizing look.
And one day she gulped a vial full of fatal bacteria.
The journey to the hospital was blurred, apart from the fact that she could smell the familiar cologne of a certain ACP as he cradled her all the way, Rathore Sir barking in the background. In the hospital some scolded her, some exclaimed in relief, and as usual he gave her a look, uncrossed her arms and walked out, his shirt crumpled and dirty.
She opened her eyes one evening to find her Father sitting beside her. For a moment she thought the morphine was too much, he would not risk this, and it was probably not fatherly affection. It was evident when he held her hand, the metallic feeling jolting her to reality, clearing her daze.
âYou do this, and itâs over.â Her Father spoke, and she noticed the same Pen drive she had used for Raizada Industries and till the date did not know what it was for. Frowning, she looked at him silently.
âJust do this. Then you will never have to see them. Just this.â
The two stared at each other, figuring out if the other would bite. She did, as usual, because she had no choice, this was what she had learn all her life- obey him. Follow him. She gave a small nod, and he pulled back his hand, satisfied with the response.
The door burst opened and Arjun Rawte walked in.
She nearly jumped at the entrance, shocked and scared, while her Father remained calm, composed as usual. Both the men shook hand and he introduced himself as her Uncle, and she felt sick to the stomach as he dropped a kiss on her head before bidding goodbye- all these years and not even one moment of affection, and he chose to do this to put up a show. Swallowing the bitterness, she gave a smile to her Boss and proceeded to inquire why he was there, desperate to forget the previous encounter. If he noticed anything, as usual he said nothing.
She had a lot of time to think when she was on leave- a strict order from Rathore Sir. She sat on a chair, pendrive playing around her fingers just like Rawte does with his pen, and made up her mind. There is no point from these pesky feelings and affection which will lead to nothing. No relationship will matter, just like how Raizadas did not matter where she almost became their DIL. Hence, no need to chase after an unknown, better to be rooted in ground. Once she was back in office, she greeted everyone, gave a small smile to Arjun Rawte and walked past him, not acknowledging him henceforth unless it was limited to work. Donât look at him, donât look at his face, donât seek him out. Keep your head down and do the job, as Riya Mukherjee is supposed to.
Of course, the duo noticed her sudden change. When Shree asked, she smiled resignedly.
âWhen you feel like you are about to die, you get flashes of life. Moments of regret, of bitterness that I could have done this differently. You also understand there were things better left untouched. No point in chasing the impossible, is it? Life is too short.â
Her friend took her words as heartbreak, gave sympathetic smile and proceeded to lift her mood with ice-cream. She let him.
Once he was out of sight she pulled his laptop kept on the table towards her, logging into his account as her Fatherâs words rang in her ears- be close enough that they share their passwords. Taking out the familiar pendrive, she let the driver install, hoping for anything, maybe a divine intervention, to stop her. Maybe Shree comes back and sees her. But nothing happened, and once the work was done she pulled it out, logged out and kept the laptop exactly at the same place, as if it was never moved.
She waited in dread.
5 days later, the country shook with the biggest data breach news- Raizada Industries. Her sinking suspicion was confirmed when bunch of people entered ETF and then there were hours of meeting where it was found that ETF servers were used to hack and publish the RI client list in the dark web. Every fingers were pointed at Shree who looked stunned but unapologetic, and everyone stood with him. When he squeezed her hand it just made her feel worse.
Then Arnav Singh Raizada walked through the door.
Shocked would be an understatement that was on his face. She had schooled in her features and participated in the meetings, but the Man cornered her in corridor.
âLavanya?â
âSorry?â She tried to appear confused, and after a while he seemed to shake off his shock. He informed she looked exactly like his ex, and grimaced when he said they were not in touch anymore. âAre you sure you donât have any twins?â
She laughed, âI am sure, Mr. Raizada.â Then sobered immediately as the situation around them donât permit her to be happy. A part of her was tempted to ask about his life, might even do a Google search, but she decided against it. These were the people she had left behind, no point in dwelling in past.
(Arnav Singh Raizada had looked into the history of Riya Mukherjee the moment his eyes fell on her, and found nothing amiss. Rathore came to know about it, and let him know he did not appreciate other people snooping into his team mates life, and not to repeat it again.)
Her Father called her one evening, âYour work is done now. We will leave.â She wondered what was home now, or what will be next. What was the purpose of bringing her past and present back together under one single roof, what was he doing or kept doing all these years. But she said nothing, cut the call and leaned against a wall, eyes closing in.
Arjun Rawte was standing there when she opened her eyes.
âIs there something we need to know?â He asked. She frowned, not getting the meaning behind his words.
âShree did nothing.â
âI know this.â He snapped almost immediately, taking a step closer to her, âI was not talking about that.â His eyes glanced towards the end of corridor where ASR along with Rathore stood, his bodyguards surrounding them, then back to her, âTry to understand the situation, Riya.â
She wondered if he suspects her. If he found out any connection between her or Arnav. But that was not possible, and honestly she did not know what he was trying to say, âIs there any reason for suspicion?â
Jaw clenching, he looked down, before meeting her eyes again, â I would not know that now, will I?â His unsaid words let her feel as if the distance was bothering him too, but she did not dare to hope. âAfter all, life is too small for regrets.â
He walked away with those words, and her hand reached out, as if to hold him back, but she did not. He overheard her the other night, she realized. But he was wrong, he was not the regret. She was.
Her Fatherâs idea of taking her out of this situation was to put the blame on her, transferring the suspicion from Shree. Her teammates, bless their soul, defended her until their voice was hoarse, ready to shoot anyone who tried to take her away but she went on her own, because Riya Mukherjee was supposed to be good, courageous and right. She was harshly interrogated by various people until every faces started to blur, starved and thrown into a dark, tiny cell. Some went one step further- waterboarding was something she had seen in youtube but never thought she would undergo it someday. During one of the worst sessions, she deliberately held her breath and soon passed out.
Arjun Rawte tore into the hospital staff and officers who had brought her in, waved some legal papers on their faces she didnât even want to know, picked her up in his arms and drove away.
âYou donât believe them, do you?â She inquired softly during car ride, dizzy with the uncertainty but strangely content in the moment. He looked at her, then ran his thumb over her cheek down to her lips. None of them spoke anything else.
She stayed in his house for two days as he did not leave for a second, tending to her wounds and nourishing her back to health. She knew the end was near, and relished the moments- as he would look at her softly, his calloused palms running through her hair to lull her to sleep, making food for her, sitting beside her. The silence was comforting, and she could almost pretend this was a life she was leading.
Even amidst the chaos, she was happy.
One evening, she limped into the living room just as he had ended a call. She called his name a few times, but he stood rooted in his spot, his back facing hers. After what seemed like an eternity, he turned, and immediately she knew this was the end. It was over.
But then he walked towards her until their faces were inches apart, leaned down and brushed his lips against her. She closed her eyes, relishing the feel, knowing it will be the first and last time it will ever happen.
âYou can even do this.â She whispered just as their eyes opened together, her resigned and his agonized. The houseâs door burst opened behind them, police surrounding them and she raised her hand, kneeling down. Her eyes never left his, not until she was lying on the ground and police were all over her.
Riya Mukherjee was a traitor.
Riya Mukherjee died on the way to Maximum security Prison facility. The van tumbled and caught fire, killing 4 people including her.
When she found herself awake, it was a new place.
The Military school surrounded by mountains and trees buzzed with students, marches, war cries and sports. Students looked at her cautiously, never approaching her when she would walk around sometimes, taking in the surrounding but not registering. Her Father looked happy, talking to some teachers, who apparently allowed them shelter for a short while. She was not interested in any of it.
He did inform her about his actions though.
Apparently, years ago, he was falsely accused of misconduct and terminated from his job, which was one of Indiaâs top secret Military agency. He had left silently but had revenge in mind, and for two decades patiently planned to be back into the organization. When the data breach happened he was called out, and he had proven his metel, also proving how years ago he was wrongly accused by a mole inside. He was back into the organization and it was their token of appreciation to release her from the captivity and letting them stay here.
She was basically a ladder on which he had stepped on to become what he wanted to be. If she had any energy left to be raged, she would be cursing and screaming at him, rather, she stared ahead disinterested, not able to join in for his happiness.
One day she hiked up a trail until she reached a cliff, looking at the greenery and mountain. She looked down, and wondered whether Lavanya or Riya had any courage to jump. Also, who is she outside these two identities? She tried to rake her brain to show her who she was when she was 19 but it came up empty. Flashed of memories came together until her brain hurt and she held onto her head, trying to stop the throbbing pain.
âIt doesnât go away.â A woman spoke behind her, and she turned around. Surprisingly, it was the same woman from the market whom she used to observe to learn how Riya was supposed to behave. âIt never goes away.â
âThen how do you live?â She inquired, desperate to know.
âYou scream.â She gave a strange, hollow smile which made her heart ache, âScream until there is nothing inside. Scream, and the nature will soak in your pain.â
So she screamed and screamed, until her knees gave out and she collapsed on the ground. She screamed until her voice was hoarse and she could cry out. The woman stood beside throughout.
It was not until that night as she lay on a small cot back in the school that she realized who the woman really was. Next afternoon, she ran with all her strength towards the market and waited. When time was almost over and she was sure that today, she wonât turn up, she did- head covered, walking slowly, shoulders hunched. She nearly laughed in relief, then walked upto her quickly, fearing she will vanish again.
âRoshni?â The woman turned towards her in shock, âRoshni Arjun Rawte.â She was confident now, it was her. Her eyes filled with pain and Roshni took a few steps back, sprinting away. But she was not letting her go this time now, hence she followed. She lost track after a few turns and realized from the way people looking at her it was not the right place or time to be there. Sun had set, the darkness was coming. She retreated, and could almost immediately feel footsteps following hers.
A hand reached out to drag her inside a house just as the men were closing in.
âAre you insane?!â Roshni whisper-yelled, as the other woman smiled in relief, âItâs not a place to stroll! Use your brain damn it!â At the last line she grinned widely.
âYou are Roshni.â She knew now why Arjun was with her. She went quiet again, looking at her with wide eyes.
âHow do you know him?â She asked.
âI was a former colleague.â The answered could not be accurate, and this was not a time to drown in the memory. For the world, Roshni was dead, so why she was here? But she would not answer anything, and she had to leave. But for weeks she would stalk Roshni until she was furious enough to tell her the truth- Sikandar was not a myth.
âHe is a monster!â Tears streamed down her face, âPeople treats him like God here. He rules this place. He did not kill me, but kept me here. I can never leave, I can never see him again. Death would had been a better punishment than this pathetic life.â
She spoke to her Father that night and it turned out Sikandar had reached out to the authorities before her.
âA little heads up to be away from the lady. She is his, he said.â She looked away in disgust as her Father looked on, curious, âI suppose itâs about her?â
âI want her out of here. Free.â
But freedom comes with a cost, and is not a solo job to achieve. Roshni was furious but she was relentless, and as bizarre it was, the Military arranged a meeting between Sikandar and authorities-her Father being a part of it-, as they donât want to ruin the delicate balance of the area. She could stand in the room but it was supposed to be a male dominated conversation.
âI have one question, why.â Sikandar asked, looking straight at her, and the pretense that her Father or someone else had anything to do with this was over. She squared her shoulder.
âIt doesnât matter. I am ready to pay anything in return.â
âOh, but you can not.â He replied, âYou see, ACP Arjun Rawte had a hand in killing my Brother, my precious Nawab. So when I planned retribution, I intended to pay along with the interest. The wife is the interest- he would neither find me nor his wife, and she would live a life full of agony, live till ripe old age and die. Nothing can top this. So I apologize, but she is not going away free.â
âShe will.â
He looked surprised, and asked after a while, âYou will risk war over a woman? Why?â
The fact was that it was not for the woman. It was for a man who had got a phone call which told him she was the traitor and kissed her anyway, and she could not tell if it was a betrayal to keep her there or he wanted to steal a last memory from time. But that was a secret she will carry till her grave, so she said nothing.
She told him she was willing to trade herself in place of Roshni, citing mutual co-operation and better deal for all the parties involved, and told him to think it over. Her Father looked calm, and did not say anything else till they were alone.
âAre you sure?â
He was right to ask that. All her life she lived by his rules, and one decision she takes is so drastic. But she knew this was right, in a twisted way might be hoping this was a moment which will bring her salvation, wash away her sins of treachery and betrayal. Her moment to do something right. She nodded and he never spoke about it again.
She dialed ETFâs number until Arjun was the one to pick up the landline. Silence stretched on, tensed from his side- he immediately knew it was her. She mentioned the address of market, date and time, and cut the call.
On the day, Arjun Rawte stood in the middle of road, looking at her as if he had seen a ghost. When he took a step towards her she moved back- she was not the one he should walk towards. Roshni stood behind him and she gave him a smile, signaling to turn around. With a frown he did.
She did not know whoâs face looked more shocking- Roshniâs or Arjunâs.
When Arjun ran towards Roshni and scooped her up into a bone crashing hug she whispered to herself ,âRight decision.â
Roshni looked crestfallen, and whispered, âWhat have you done?â
They were escorted out of the valley in the middle of the night, surrounded by officers who will be with them till they reach home safely. Roshni knew about the deal, and could not speak, overwhelmed at the turn of events.
âWhat do I even . . . â She stopped, as the ladies held onto each others hands, âHow can I ever thank you? Why?â
There were many things she could have told her- be happy, keep him happy. Live a life I can never have. But she just smiled in return and patted her hand. Arjun stood in front of her once Roshni sat inside the car arranged for them, staring in amazement.
âWho are you?â He whispered.
She did not know it yet, so she stayed silent. Roshni called out his name, once, twice, thrice as he kept looking at her, hoping for an answer. When he realized he had to live his life full of questions, he exhaled in frustration, gave her a look full of anger and despair, and sat inside the car, banging the door shut.
She did not cry even when the car vanished out of her sight, silence and darkness surrounding.
Sikandar decided she was to be married to him in order to take her in, and honestly it was a point she did not care about anything anymore- not even being married to a suspected terrorist and a known thug of the valley. On the night of wedding she did her make up and put the veil, her Fatherâs reflection looking at her in the mirror, just like she used to do back in her house. Something passed through his face when she turned towards him, but it was gone nonetheless.
The marriage was a hushed ceremony, the reception was supposed to be the talk of the town. On the wedding night, she stood in the bed as the groom, her now husband, Sikandar walked in, looking at her as if he still canât figure her out. He took her hand to make her stand, face to face, his hand removing each pieces of jewellery until the hair jewellery left.
It was the time she stabbed him with the piece of glass in the abdomen. He cried out in pain, knees buckling, at the same time trying to overpower her. A tussle ensued but she kept stabbing him repeatedly until his face was a mask of pain, mouth open.
âSsh, donât struggle. Itâs okay, itâs okay.â She whispered to him until the last breath had left, then kept her chin over his head, crying softly.
She was thrown into the street in the middle of the night. Once people had discovered what had transpired, they had beaten her black and blue, convinced that Military had sent a spy to kill Sikandar. To make an example, she was to be executed in front of everyone. A person yelled in microphone as hundreds of people stood around her on a rainy night, eager for blood and horrified to see an upcoming execution. She closed her eyes, trying to take her mind out of pain and death, scared but ready. She saw herself in the empty field back in her house where she used to run, looking up in the blue sky filled with clouds. It was a beautiful day.
When she turned, Arjun was standing there.
The gun was pressed on her head and she choked onto a sob, the rain washing away the blood from her hands.
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