Hello All!
Thank you for your responses to my previous update. I hope you continue to shower your love on this story. Also a special note for you all: as soon as I give you an update, I will mention in the index on the first page when to expect the next update ❤️
Chapter Two- The Slow Poison
Naina was lost. In life, in love, in this city. Maybe it was the heat or the tears that constantly dripped from her eyes but a weakness overcame her as she walked around aimlessly. The duffle bag made her feel overburdened; the constant clinging of bangles increased her frustration.
"Waise toh tu kabhi chudiyan nahi pehenti aur aaj jab itna lamaba safar karna tha toh pehen li. Upar se yeh jagah kitni confusing hai. 100 house number ke saath 102 hai..bhai 101 kahan hai? Itne bade gharon mein rehne ke bawajood inn logo ko toh ginti hi nahi aati hai." She muttered exasperated as she looked at the long winding road of bungalows with an aimelessness that frightened her insides.
With a groan she set about trying to remove her bangles rather noisily. One by one as rings of painted blue glass slipped out of her hands crashing onto the road, she felt the itchiness under her skin grow. Her heart still refused to return to its normal pace. Just an hour ago she had been in his long lethal arms. His hands had held her with a firmness that had sparked the tiniest veins embedded in her skin, his sinful scent intoxicating her senses. His masculine arms had been strong and thick around her soft frame, his big hands stinging up the small of her back. Hot flashes had blown through her skin as parts of him had fit against her, filling deep cavities in her body, making her toes curl and muscles melt with sheer liquid heat.
Looking down she touched her own hand trying to rekindle the sensations she had felt when her skin had touched his, the sweat of the summer beads mingling as their fingers brushed past. The flesh of his hand had been hard and chafed against her's but its liquid warmth had transfused under her skin; flowed deep down the surface to escalate her pulse. Like a puff of smoke from the engine of a train he had appeared like the ashen clouds of yesterday. Leaving her misty eyed and wary of reality, he had disappeared in the fog once again.
Spotting a white stone bench, she slumped with a loud sigh on its heated surface. Her duffle bag lying next to her she stared at it for a long time.
"Ghar se basta band kar
musafir toh hum ho chale
na manzil na thikana
ab aage iss anjaan raste par kahan chale
na hai koi apne saath bas rehti hai toh sirf yaadein
kismat jo ruth gayi humse ab kaise gaye hum woh beete waqt ke geet suhane"
She recited the lines written by her favourite poet, 'Musafir'. That was all she had known about him, the pseudonym under which he wrote in Nakshatra magazine. But the depth of emotions behind his words had resonated so deeply with the scars in her that she had memorised them. His writing had inspired her to pen her own agony down leading her to pursue the unfamiliar road of becoming a writer.
Now as she sat looking at her future packed up in a tiny duffle bag, she wondered how many dreams had she fit in there when she had embarked on this journey alone; fighting against her father, taiji and tauji. Her chachaji had insisted on accompanying her but she had fought him too. All to come here to move on from the ghosts of her past, to start her writing course in Delhi Sahitya Akademy.
She should have known that her destiny would never let her off this easily. She had to face the man whose existence had tortured her soul for the past six years and despite his rude mannerisms, she had slipped. She had cared about the blood on his hand. She had given him that handkerchief she had so loving made for him and sent through Munna Pandit. That was 5 years ago, she had somehow tricked them into going to meet Sameer but they had come back with solemn gloomy auras and returned that piece of cloth to her. She chuckled at how life works: the handkerchief eventually found its way to him after all. Sadly he never did find his way back to her.
She had never asked Munna or Pandit what had happened, she couldn't bring herself to. The wound that had been inflicted had been far too deep. All she knew was that Sameer had estranged them and even though Munna Pandit would never give up on him, Sameer had given up on them.
That was when she knew the tide had started to change. It was no longer gently flowing her ship along, it was now heading for her ship ready to drown it. And she had not been wrong in this foreboding. A week later his last letter to her had arrived bearing no vows of love or care, he had merely informed her of joining university in Delhi.
But she had continued writing to him, ink dripping on paper like her heart bleeding out one drop at a time. Letters going from daily to weekly to monthly. Finally, after two years of silence from his side she had decided to write letters to him on that one day every year. Hoping against hope that maybe he would write back to her or one of these days would call her back once for the hundreds of missed calls she had left him.
But he never did.
Silence was all he had given her: the memory of his voice and his handwriting was fading to residues she tried to clasp in the open palm of her hand. But like sand they continued to free fall, leaving her behind. In school, silence used to feel golden with him as their eyes would lose themselves in unsaid stories. But the past six years, silence had become her arch enemy, it had been the slow poison that had killed everything she had inside of her. One by one it killed the patience, the tolerance, the respect, the comfort. And last came trust. When all these bit the dust, she had believed that maybe she didn't love him the same way anymore. That her love for him had dwindled, if only a little but it had.
And like everything else inside of her that belief too crumpled to dust today when she saw him bleeding and her heart ached, when he touched her and her nerves crippled, when his face was close to her's and she felt her whole being shiver with the need to touch him.
How was she to go on now? In this strange land with only her thoughts as a companion, her heart hoping to see him again even as her mind feared the possibility. When she was in conflict with her own being, divided between the day and the night, how was she to move on with her journey?
A deep throaty cry drew her away from her impassive trail of thought. Frightened, she looked around at the previously deserted road to find a girl fallen off her cycle. She looked young, barely an adolescent, a cute chubby face, rounded sharp features and long black hair tied up in a ponytail. Tears streaked down her face as she looked around the empty road.
Slightly wary in a new city, Naina had decided to not poke her nose into anyone's business but an injured crying child she couldn't ignore. Lifting her duffle bag she slowly approached the girl with a kind smile lest she got scared. The girls eyes locked with her's and she could see a small glint of recognition in her round eyes. But that's impossible, the only relatives she had in Delhi had moved away years ago. Maybe she was just mistaken.
Kneeling down by the girl's side, she offered her hand with a friendly smile "mai Naina hoon.". The girl smiled back shaking her hand "mujhe chot lag gayi" she whispered in a small voice.
"Koi baat nahi abhi dard dur ho jayega aapka." Naina spoke as she brought out her water bottle to clean the little girl's wounded knee. Slightly joking around with the girl to distract her from the pain. After cleaning it up, she got out the rather embarrassing concoction of turmeric paste and saffron her chachiji had packed for her in case of injuries during the journey to her hostel.
"Aap jante hai yeh kya hai? Yeh na haldi ka lep hai. Isko lagane se jadoo hoga aur aap ekdum se theek hojaoge.." she cooed at the girl as she applied it to her knee. Later after the girl had calmed down, she insisted on Naina accompanying her to her house. Tired from the heat, Naina agreed as she rounded buildings holding her duffle bag in one hand and the little girl's tiny hand in the other.
The door clicked open audibly as Sameer entered the Somani mansion, the handkerchief wrapped around his fist. With the clanking of each footstep against the tiled marble floor suffocation seemed to seep into his bones and his muscles grew lethargic. Walking past the drawing room he took a bottle of water out of the fridge and poured it into a glass.
"Sameer haath dholene the tumhe aur yeh tumhare joote itne gande kyun hai, inhe bahar chodkar aana tha na. Tumhe pata hai na tumhari dadi ko gandagi bilkul pasand nahi hai." His mother's voice boomed at him. He had not taken one sip of water, was exhausted from the heat outside and his mother was more concerned about the marble floor. What else was new in this household?
Gulping the water down in one swift motion he clanked the glass down and turned to his mother "maaf kijiyega bahut pyaas lagi thi mujhe" he spoke, walking past her.
Footsteps that led him away from his mother had now become the usual norm. He had never thought things could get any worse between them than when the cheating scandal in school had erupted. But he had been wrong. Ironically, living under one roof there was more distance in their hearts than the miles it took for him to leave his everything behind in Ahemdabad and get here.
"Ruko. Yeh chot kaise lagi tumhe? aao beta mai saaf kardeti hoon." Vishaka said holding his bicep and getting him to sit on the couch. Opening the first aid box, her fingers nimbly applied the savalon on his wound as his heart stirred from the gentle love she shed on him. Her love for him came in small incremental dozes but it always made his heart stir. It really made him chuckle that he was such a sensitive fool.
"Ab kya kiya Sameer ne? Vishaka yeh ladka roz bahar koi maar dhaar karke aata hai. Mai yeh sab apne ghar mein tolerate nahi karunga! Mai bata raha hoon iski inhi harkaton ke karan mujhe itni sharmindagi hoti hai aur socho Rohan aur Deepika par inn cheezon ka kya asar padega..." Vivek Somani screamed, unleashing words at a mile a minute while Sameer rolled his eyes and lost track of all that was being spoken.
In an instant, his wounds were forgotten as his mother was at Somani's side, holding his hand calming him down. His hand singed from the partially applied savlon but no balm was going to soothe the sear. Dejected as always, he walked into Rohan's room and slumped on the bed, looking at the small piece of fabric wrapped around his fist.
Naina had made it for him, the 'S' embroidered in red. She was the only one who cared about his wound even after all he had done to her. Her eyes had shown the worry she had felt, his unspoken agony that had made her eyes water. Even after all these years of silence from his side, and his betrayal she loved him and cared for him. But he didn't deserve any of it.
Sameer Maheshwari was not made to be loved and understood. A black filthy dog like him deserved nothing except people's revulsion. Then why? Why after all his efforts to distance her from him, Naina Agrawal still loved him unconditionally?
'Tum kis kahani ki pari ho Naina?'he whispered to himself, repeating the one line that would always hold like a sacred prayer for him. Year after year, the world would change, people would die and more will be born but the one thing he knew to the core of his soul was that he would never find another woman like Naina. Her care, her love, her selfless acts for him made his heart heavy with love and with guilt.
A small organ like the heart possessed the deepest irony of the human. It could control you, hold your life and within a second decide between life and death. Humans that prided themselves on being industrious beings forget that a tiny delicate thing like the heart controls them. And a heart as conflicted as his would never be able to decide between life and death, it would just beat along at an arrhythmic pace till either he gave out or his body did. He was no longer sure of which would come first. Or that is what he had thought till he saw her today.
Years later she had stood in front of him, her beauty nothing short of divine. In his arms that beauty had blossomed into a flower whose nectar he was thirsty for. He had to stay away from her but it wouldn't be easy knowing she was in the same city as him. The awareness that she would probably be breathing the same polluted hot air of Delhi as he was staggered his soul. When all he wanted was to run to her and hold her in his arms, absorb all her softness and warmth into his cold dry flesh, how was he to stick to his promise? How was he to keep distance when the memory of her touch and her essence made his being ache? This was all because of his his moronic heart.
Wouldn't it be so much easier to live with two hearts like Kumar Sanu had sang. He wished he could uproot his heart and flung it out of his chest, life would be so much easier to get through.
Sighing, he flung off his shirt, kicked off his shoes and taking his towel proceeded to shower. The biggest advantage of showering with a sorrowful heart? He could cry all he wanted and fool himself into thinking that the drops on his cheeks were from the shower.
Naina rounded the corner holding the little girl's hand and entered the empty driveway of a colossal white mansion. As the girl dragged her inside opening the door, she stopped short in front of the photo at the entrance. Vishaka aunty stood posing with her husband, Rohan, and the girl next to her. The photograph which seemed to be from a blissful spring picnic had made her forehead grow cold on the warm summer day. Out of all the places in Delhi, she had somehow found her way to Sameer's house. Unbelievable.
Bending to the level of the girl's height she gently asked "are aapne toh mujhe apna naam hi nahi bataya.." "Mai hoon Deepika!" The girl spoke as she made a very pale looking Naina sit on the sofa. It was Sameer's sister, the girl he had once described as a demon child in one of his letters. Her heart beat became unstable, not sure whether to be rapid or still or slow. Like her varying emotions her heartbeats continued at their own undulating pace.
"Keshav bhaiya, didi ko pani de dijiye. Lagta hai mama aur papa apne kamre mein hai. Mai unhe bulakar laati hoon." Deepika said, proceeding to leave. Naina's trembling hand held Deepika's wrist with a gentle firmness "b..bbathroom kahan hai?" she asked. "Bathroom woh stairs se upar seedha jake right." Deepika said and ran off.
Naina took deep breaths, rubbing her sweat stricken face with her hands. This was not happening to her. She had wanted to avoid this man at any cost. To stay as far away from him as possible and here she was sitting in his living room. Oh! Mother Destiny such vile games you play.
Fidgeting with the corner of her dupatta, Naina took in her surroundings. The drawing room was large and open. It was decorated with taste and class, the kind that gave you the impression of a five star hotel rather than a cozy home. Everywhere she looked there were numerous family photos of Deepika, Rohan, Vishaka Aunty, her husband, and whom Sameer had once described to her as 'takli dadi'. Happy glittering faces that spoke of comfort and family.
But there was not a single photo of Sameer with either of them. She remembered the phone call after Sameer first moved here 'mera yahan koi apna nahi hai Naina, apne toh Ahemdabad mein peeche choot gaye'. He had spoken to her, his voice a broken wail of suppressed longing. She had gradually built up his calm nature so he could have a family because she had always felt that no matter how weird, familial relations never fail you. As someone who had had her heart broken twice by the same person she valued family over anyone else in this world. Because for her when Sameer had withdrawn himself, her chacha -chachi, her sister Preeti had lent support.
But now that she looked around at the photos that bore no touch of Sameer, she realised that he had such fragmented relationships, they shook her lifelong belief in family. His mother did love him from what he had told her she could gouge that much. However, something lacked in that love; maybe there was no understanding or comfort or stability, something was missing and it stuck out its anomalous stake like the idea of rains in May. She didn't know why but all of a sudden she felt infinite amounts of sorrow thinking of how Sameer had lived here for 6 long years and was markedly an outsider. 'Naina pighal mat.Maybe his room would have more pictures and things of him.' She thought and then reprimanded herself 'Pagal Ladki ab tu uske kamre ke baare mein kyun soch rahi hai!'
Facepalming herself at her thought process she walked up the stairs down the narrow corridor, touching the walls as she moved along. Trying to get the essence of his being off the stark white surface. She wanted to touch all that he had touched, absorb some of his energy into her being. Try and walk the same places he had walked the past six years when she hadn't been there with him. On a cold day, his nimble icy fingers would have touched that strange looking lamp on the side to heat them up. On a rainy day his mucked up shoes would have left messy splotches on the floor. On warm days like today sweat beads would have trickled down his arm and made slurry splashes as his hands would have touched the doors. The doors, the corridors, the walls. All objects here told her the tale of Sameer Maheshwari: the flawed broken man she had come to love. Oh her heart was foolish after all! She would never be able to stop loving him. She wished she could uproot him like a weed and dash off his existence from the chronicle of her life.
Near to the end of the long narrow passageway she saw two rooms with closed doors on the right. Confused she itched her hair, the few bangles left in her hand clinked like wind chimes on a stormy day before she decided to test her luck with the first door on the right.
Inside the room, goosebumps arose on his bare wet skin as Sameer registered the sound of bangles that rang clear to him like temple bells as they made his heart dance to their tune. They almost sounded like Naina's bangles from earlier in the day.
'Sameer tu pagla gaya hai aaj Naina ko dekhkar, woh yahan kaise aa sakti hai. Aur chudiyaan toh koi bhi pehen sakta hai na, idiot.' He muttered to himself as he opened the cupboard to find clothes to wear. As much as he would prefer to spend this hot day in just his towel, he was wary Deepika would come running anytime. And he wasn't allowed to lock bedroom doors here. Not since that incident.
Naina opened the large rosewood door, her eyes widening as she saw him. Bathed in the sunlight filtering through the partially curtained windows, Sameer stood golden and wet in the centre of the room completely unaware of her presence. What had she just walked into...
Precap: Transfixed by the promise of her pink lush mouth, he cornered her to the wall. A dream or a mirage he didn't care what she was. What mattered was that she stood here, the perfume of her exquisite body scenting up the air of his room.
I hope it didnt get boring for you readers. This update wasnt as long as the previous one but I promise to make the next one longer. I am quite drained and busy at the moment so I apologise I wouldn't be able to send PMs. I promise to start the PMs from the next update.
Bundles of love,
Sims
Edited by IamIbe - 6 years ago
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