The Wings in the Feathers |Part15 Long-awaited p16 - Page 11

Originally posted by: -Pinky-

aww that was emotional!! i like how the village guy was mentioning all the bad things prashant did n praising him at the same time....lol it was cute!!
i m sortof confused... wut was he doing in the village? like he left his job n stuff.....n just went there for a holiday or something to get away from sandhya?

Originally posted by: -Pinky-

oooh and next part please..😳 needless to say im addicted😆

Originally posted by: Rafa.LunaPotter

Beuatiful!!!

Prashant's out at last!!!

Awesome job Hema..di!!

U rock at this!!!

I want update sooonnnn!

Originally posted by: CZ..

Hema, I love this story! PM me when you update? 😃

Originally posted by: scratches-head

Hema, this was so beautifully written that halfway through I thought 'Why doesn't she get this published?' - It was really really amazing. Prashant is someone with alot of depth, and I like that aspect about him. Loved how you explained his character and his tendency to fall in love quickly. The comparison with the river reminded me of an english class in which we were studying some poem about a river, and we had to write a 150 word essay on 'parallelism between life and river' :P

Amazing update!

"Chachi, I'm leaving for work," Sandhya said on her way out.

No answer.

Geeta Chachi was sulking again. Sandhya sighed. More emotional blackmail. Why did families have to be so exasperating? It had been two months now.

After Shekhar's visit, she had categorically refused to cooperate with any of the family's efforts to find her a good husband. She would entertain no visitors and pointedly avoided weddings and prayers which happened to be a ripe ground for matchmaking endeavours.

Her family was at a loss for words. Initially they all thought it was Shekhar who had corrupted her mind, since Shekhar had been later discovered to be, as per the reliable rumours making the rounds, a most unsuitable match - an unabashed atheist with multiple girlfriends. But Sandhya had denied this, pointing out quite rightly, that if Shekhar was the reason, would she not have insisted to marry him? It made sense, the family had conceded. Sandhya had explained that she needed time to get her thoughts in order and that until she did so, to invite any suitor to see her, would be unfair, on both of them. But this reasoning seemed too flawed for the family to accept, for hadn't she agreed on her own accord to be married?

So now it was her entire family on one side, shaking their heads at her, in incomprehension and disappointment; and her on the other, fighting her own internal battle. And yes, floating around arbitrarily, there was also her idiotic and highly irritating fourteen-year old cousin, Aditi, who was quite enamoured by Shekhar and spared no opportunity to rave about him and nag Sandhya for more details. Sandhya had repeated to her the family's logic of him being a 'bad' boy, but if anything else, that only made Aditi more starry-eyed. In any case, there was not much she could have told Aditi. Shekhar and Sandhya had hardly spoken about him when he had come. And they had not been in touch since, other than a thank you email Sandhya had sent right after he had left, and his reply thereto.

For some reason, Sandhya could not bring herself to contact Shekhar. He had helped a lot and she would always be extremely grateful to him for shaking her out of her self-induced bubble of simplistic assumptions. But he was so convincing when he said anything that it sometimes scared her. She could only rely upon her own decisions. This one, she had to figure out on her own.

Yet, how?

She had not heard from Prashant and she knew hardly anything about him. He had been so quiet when they had met. She caught herself trying to recollect little snippets of information and assemble them into what might be him. But there was too many missing pieces in the puzzle.

It was inconceivable that she would feel so much for a person whom she barely knew. Nevertheless, even after trying to fight with her own emotions for two months, she still found herself thinking about him ever so often. His face swam before hers, albeit wrapped in hazy mists. And if she narrowed her eyes, she could just about make out his square-chinned, tight-jawed face, his short black hair and half-fringe, his long sharp nose, his thin-lipped mouth and kind smile, his intense, magnetic liquid brown eyes that spoke and sang. His words, the few that he had uttered and the undeniable sincerity in them echoed in the deep recesses of her memory.

How could it be? Shekhar had called it love. But how can one love somebody one doesn't even know? Wasn't that superficial? Shekhar had said she lacked perfect faith, but how does one develop perfect faith? How does one know for sure something that one knows one doesn't know?

The questions made her dizzy and she yearned to be freed from them. There were only questions and no answers. She resolved that since she had not heard from Prashant in two months, he could not possibly be feeling for her in the way that she suspected he did. The whole situation felt ridiculous. It was time to move on, she had decided numerous times. But it was an inescapable maze; her feet were shackled by some unknown force. She could not move on, she could only go round and round in circles. She felt like she was hanging in a limbo waiting and waiting, frozen in time, waiting. It frustrated her no end.

The rickshaw had snorted and rattled to a stop. She had reached the school. Nothing like Keats to take her mind off things, temporarily. Bright star, were I as steadfast as thou art...

***

There was no place like home. After staying away for so long, Prashant could fully appreciate how incredibly fortunate he was. Frost had once said, "home is the place where, when you go there, they have to take you in." Prashant had always liked the sound of that. Its odd syntax and simplicity had struck him and the words had lingered.

Upon his return, when his father, in his deep gruff voice, told him that he had finally forgiven him for quitting his job and running away to the mountains, the words of the poem came back again. Yes, there was no place like home, he smiled to himself, watching his mother dish out gajar ka halwa for him after his father had left for work. With an excited gleam in her eyes, she told him about what had happened in his absence. His grandmother had won some cookery competition. The neighbour's wife had run away with an office colleague. Oh, and Sandhya Desai had phoned once, just to say hello and enquire how he was doing.

"So, you and Sandhya Desai are friends?" his mother asked curiously. Prashant could almost sense her heartbeats quickening with hope as she tried to fake nonchalance, unsuccessfully.

"Kind of."

"She's not upset at you for... for..." his mother stammered uncertainly.

"For supposedly still being in love with my ex-girlfriend," Prashant provided. He had told his parents everything about his break-up with Amrita. Initially they had been upset about him hiding it from them for so long. He had explained that it had hurt him so much that he wanted to forget it all, and had told nobody else about it. And they had understood after some time.

"Supposedly?" his mother said, her lips fighting a smile.

"Yes. I have moved on," he said, his words echoing a resolve, a finality.

"So maybe now you and Sandhya can – she's a very nice girl, you know?" his mother said eagerly, bright-eyed.

"I know. Hang on, she's um, not found someone?"

"Not that I know of. Why do you ask?"

"Because," Prashant said tenderly, "it's been two months, and for all we know, while you're trying to match us together, she's already engaged and married to some other person."

"And if she's not?"

Prashant reached out for his mother's hand.

"I will get married, Ma. Really, I will. But I'm not Sandhya's type."

"But she called, didn't she?" his mother insisted.

"Yes she called, but not because she's in love with me. She called to find out how I was doing, like she said. That day when we went for coffee, I told her about Amrita, and she was really moved; she really felt sad for me. You should have seen her face. It was like she could feel my pain. Her only reason for calling was just to find out if I was better. She's just really kind like that."

Prashant smiled warmly as his mind travelled to Sandhya's concerned face and her earnest efforts to help him. You must call Amrita, she had said again and again. He had Vipin's number. Surely Vipin would know Amrita's new number. If not, Saima would definitely have it.