This is a rewrite fic that will loosely follow canon, but explore the possibilities as well. So, suggestions of things you wanted to see, or want changed from the show would be welcome. Either here in the comments, or via PM, whichever you are more comfortable with!
Disclaimer: Vaguely described suicide attempt. A bit of chaotic writing in between that I'm guessing only people who've continuously watched the show will get, so feel free to ask me if something confuses you! Also, although POV will be mostly Shiva or Raavi, other POVs will be scattered throughout this fic. Around 2k words, but I'm thinking smaller chapters so that I might update properly.
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Back to the beginning.... Chaos that I am.
As she felt her world blurring around the edges, she heard his voice shouting for her, for Mami ki behen ki beti. Still. Couldn't he call her by her name atleast when she was about to die? The door burst open, and as she felt her body tiring too much to truly feel the excruciating pain she'd been in a moment before, she saw him freeze. She saw his eyes freeze as they settled on her and all she could see was how they'd frozen when she'd gone to see Dev before the wedding.
Her wedding.
Her broken wedding.
She wanted to die.
He ran inside, straight for her, and as someone else, probably Gaumbi from how Dhara di was calling out to him, lifted her up roughly by her legs, Shiva reached above her and pulled the noose off her neck.
And she fell into his arms, her world going dark at last. The last thing she saw were his eyes, and in them she saw pain and regret and pity. But atleast his eyes were honest. They'd all lied to her, except perhaps him, who had told her her life could not be a fairytale. Who had told her again and again right till today.
She was not Alice in Wonderland. But she was falling down the rabbit hole.
Falling. Falling. Falling.
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She was in her world of darkness.
And then she saw his eyes as they'd been when he'd first seen her. Shock. Horror. Hidden behind the frozen look on his face as a broken door lay at his feet.
She saw his eyes again, her in his arms and in her lehenga. His eyes were still frozen on her, but there was a shocked wonder hidden behind it all.
She saw herself frozen in a body that looked dead, walking around a fire with him in front of her, and when it came her time to lead, she would've fallen if it wasn't for him catching her. Holding her.
A chain of black beads went around her neck. And when she saw red reaching for her she pushed it away. She needed a break from the bright colours of her life. She wanted the blackness for a while yet.
But it still fell on her. Forcing colour on her.
No. No. No. No. No. She sighed, letting it settle on her.
She saw a palace in her dream, a haveli of gold, a bright blue sky, and green everywhere above her.... And she heard his voice, strong as ever.
Mujhse bada dushman kaun hain tera?
Kyun, tu jaan ke kya karega?
Jaan se maar dunga.
She felt her heart stop, her eyes searching for the man willing to do that for her. But alas, her mind pulled her past it as a green dupatta flew past her with the wind. She let it, although something pulled at her still.
She was so angry at him! She didn't know why, but she felt the building around her bind itself to her shattering soul. It fell apart as she did, and then he was above her. Protecting. Promising. Saving. From herself.
She felt a joy rise up in her as she saw blue around her, the turquoise of it rising in a tent around her and twirling. A skirt, and a dancing girl. A jhumka being tinkled, and a bindi lighting up a world.
And then a mirror. Pink. Fuschia? The smell of incense rose from her skin as she saw him in the same mirror. Cinnamon and clove and the bitter smell of the mustard oil he touched wafting towards her. He washed away the bitterness though. Every day.
Yellow, yellow everywhere. A skirt, a saree. Pushing, breaking. Her pride felt broken already, but her respect rose off of her in a yellow phantom, flying flying flying.
Yellow. A kurta. A slap resounding in her ears. The echoes of it reaching the corners of her skull, her world. She saw her hands in front of her, and she saw fire.
Yes, yes, yes. Burn, burn, burn. Those hands had given pain, and they would burn for it.
Green again. Everywhere. But the sky was no longer a bright blue. It was grey, colourless, just like the smooth rock in her hand. Just like she wished to be. Not in that horrible yellow again.
She saw green again, sheets and sheets of it. It was better than yellow, it meant hate and it meant safe and it meant holding on tight. But then she saw black rise up for her from the green again.
Breaking, breaking, breaking. What could she do? She didn't want to break she screamed and screamed and screamed. No one heard her.
And then she heard him. Angry again. But pain. So much pain. She refused to reach out for him, remembering her yellow phantom flying away.
He yelled. She broke. The black settled into the green.
No more green. Please. She begged the god of her dreams.
Blue!!! A deep navy blue! But then it burnt and no, no, no, this wasn't supposed to burn!!! But it did anyways.
And then she saw green again. She was tired. No more. So when in a building of red brick and white paint the green sheets came in front of her again and the black rose up for her and demanded it's share. She gave it.
The black could have her. Colours were too tiring, anyway.
And as it settled, she saw another name beside it. Shiva. Shiva Pandya. She looked up to see him, slipping into his eyes and falling, falling, falling.
Pain!!! She felt it pull at her, clawing and bruising and yelling and burning! Her heart woke up again and her voice hummed, and then she gathered her breath and called out to him.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
"Shiva!", she yelled as she jerked upright, then fell right back as she felt the world blur and take her for a spin.
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He had been angry at his brother when he'd first found out about his secret love. Had he not felt that it was important to tell their family? They had always stood by one another, and they would have once more if things hadn't worked out.
But then he also hadn't wanted that girl, with her arrogance and her family that believed in blood money, to become part of his family. Especially not after they had shamed his bhabhi. Hit her. As if she was some peddler on the street begging for alms when all she had wanted was the happiness of her child.
No one got to raise a hand to his family and get away with it. No one. That girl had thought she could. So he'd been happy when Dev had broken things off with her, proud even.
He had let himself accept that Dev and Raavi would get married although he hadn't let Raavi know of that. Why should she know? After all, his relationship with her was seperate from his family's relationship with her. It had always been that way, and he preferred it too.
His so called hatred, their childish rivalry that stemmed from places better left untouched, had been a passionate thing. His every thought came straight from his heart, every bit of emotion, but not his words. So when he'd expected to see her throwing a fit and crying when he'd broken the door down, and instead seen her hanging like a limp doll from the fan, it had hit him hard and deep.
Arrey par itna jaldi kyun bata diya? Agar tu yeh baat mandap pe bolta tha na, tho uss...
It was like the Bholenaath he'd prayed to everyday for as long as he could remember had knocked on his heart and said, is this not what you wanted? Well, tathastu anyways. His own words echoed in his head over and over again as he sat at her feet and watched the doctor they'd been lucky enough to find check her up.
Later, as he stayed beside her keeping watch with Anita, solely to keep himself from letting the anger rising in him slowly consume him, he watched her shifting around on the bed, eyes twitching beneath her lids and breath gasping. A nightmare? It looked like it for sure.
He waited a moment to see if Anita would come out of the restroom she'd gone into after a good bout of crying, and then just as he walked closer to wake her up, she yelled a "Shiva!", springing up, and then fell right back.
Shiva?, he thought as he held her instinctively. And the door opened just then with the whole family looking in at them.
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Just as Raavi felt like she was about to fall back on the bed, the scent of cinnamon and clove that had permeated her dream world became stronger and sharper. And she felt a deep yearning rise up in her.
For some phantom of a thing she knew not what it was. She didn't remember her dream except for a jumble of colours and blackness, nothing else.
And then she opened her eyes as the scent disappeared again and found Anita di holding her up, her eyes red and swollen, face wet, and she remembered.
Oh, her broken wedding. With Dev.
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Dhara had been the first person to reach the room after Mami, and had been standing right beside her in shock. She had watched as Shiva had held Raavi as she'd nearly fainted again, and then carefully, softly, shifted her to the arms of an Anita who'd just rushed out of the bathroom, face still wet from when she must have rinsed it.
She had heard Raavi shout Shiva's name as she'd woken. Dhara didn't know why, but she knew that things always happened for a reason. Always. People just figured out what those things were long after they happened, and so spent their lives in longing of what could have been.
And as she watched Shiva slowly back away towards the window, where Raavi would barely notice his presence behind the flood of family surrounding her, she noticed his eyes still stuck on her. Staring. As if he would look away and she would disappear.
She sighed, turning towards Gaumbi to discuss what to do. Mami was on the verge of out right accusing them of hiding things from them, from Raavi, in an attempt at revenge for Gaumbi's broken wedding to Anita and the shame it had caused them. Dhara understood why, and if she had her way, she would force Dev to love Raavi back, to marry her of his own free will.
But love could not be forced.
She watched, watched as Raavi finally got off the bed, pushing past Mami and Gaumbi and Mama and her heart squeezed in pain for her little sister. For her broken heart and her broken pride. And when Raavi held Shiva by his shawl, tugged him closer and almost laid her head on his shoulder as she questioned him, she saw such pain in the eyes of the boy she had considered her own.
And Dhara knew what had to be done. To save Raavi's izzat, to save her family from the paap of having spoilt an innocent's life, and to keep all those she loved from falling apart.
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Note:
It's official! Copy pasting to IF is a pain that leaves me having to edit all over again!!! Never doing it again, ever!!!!
Let me know if the Dhara POV felt like, Dhara, since this is the first time I'm ever trying it out. I know it's not my best work yet, but I really needed to get this out. So do read, comment, and provide criticism!!!
Edited by Pottermeow - 2 years ago
DO NOT COPY THIS POST AS THIS IS EXCLUSIVE TO INDIA FORUMS
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