prenote: heavy duty emotional atyachaar ensues here on. please bear 😆
i asked myself why i'd made this piece so sad, when i was finishing up
this chapter and i remembered the 'song' given for theme - blame it all
on khusiiii! 😆
** Contd... from where it was left last time **
~3~ A
steaming cup of coffee was thrust into his hands. Well, at least she
had trusted him to drink it himself. Cause the way she was going for the
drill, she may as well have jammed the cup to his mouth and forced the
scalding dark liquid down his throat to make sure it was all inside him
at the count of three.
Meanwhile,
the five words 'how', 'when', 'why', 'what', and 'who' were featuring
generously in her endless chattering, of which he could catch only the
overall essence - given both her speed and the bubbling content. She
skipped topics and back traced them, going from feeling guilty about
having kept him freezing outside to justifying herself on account of his
incomprehensible secret keeping, to interludes of going all mushy about
how touching, albeit twisted, his way to surprise her was and how she
now understood why he'd been laying low for these two days ... her
complaining rant and affectionate wonder, pondering speculations and
self drawn conclusions continued in an all out defiance to any
chronological conformity, while also remaining predominantly one sided,
cause the few several times that he did open his mouth to correct her,
it was to no avail.
Consequently, Abhimanyu Modi's big confession was not getting its deserved big break. The second, big break.
For
his earnest utterance on the doorstep, he concluded with little to
doubt, had been superseded by the trance his presence had seduced
her better senses with. Now he would have to introduce himself all over again,
and by heavens, if ever an introduction had seemed half as daunting.
The sense of foreboding, which had quickly reestablished its tantalizing
grip over him, post that initial relief of reunion, was of a magnitude
that its life altering gravity could stand to challenge the history
making potential of say...a Bush-Osama introduction round...or
Bush-Saddam...
"AM!" She exclaimed, breaking into his secret thoughts.
"Nikki
what would you do if you met Saddam Hussain?" The words left him aloud
in a careless overflow of his unbridled chain of thoughts, before he
could check himself from committing the idiocy.
"WHAT!"
She
nearly burned his hand as hot coffee promptly jumped out in a spill
from his loosely held mug, to match her own startled jump. It ended as a
rapidly spreading brown blot upon a pile of gossip magazines which lay
hastily gathered next to the couch. Either that was irrelevant damage in
her opinion, or she couldn't sacrifice the chance to stand up in all
her element, and look down upon him. Abhimanyu mustered a smile that
looked crudely sheepish.
"No,
no, ignore that." He muttered, "I just..." and shrugged. The
unconvincing excuse resulted in a frown, a tad more concerned than
disdainful now, flitting across her features.
"Did
you hit...head...or the cold...chill..." her words were too stray to
become a structured sentence, but she didn't waste her time with them,
springing to action instead as her soft cozy palm came to cup his
forehead, which was only just beginning to warm up. It didn't stop
there, as her other hand went on to rake through his thick set hair.
"Nikki..."
he urged quietly, taking hold of her wrists, gently, but firmly, and
prying them away from himself to consequently pull her wholly to
himself, so she was squeezed in to the snug little gap beside him on the
couch.
"You
don't have a bump." She concluded, almost sadly, like she'd have
preferred for him to have one. A new moon cut smile marked his lips.
"But you totally hit your head somewhere, didn't you?"
He
clucked his tongue, denying. Hint of amusement crept into his slowly
forming expression, which ultimately settled for a small, plainer smile,
and throwing his arm around her, he drew her closer such that she had
more space to sit than just the very edge of the seat.
"I was just being random..." he said, off handly. Not that she bought it anymore than before.
"Random
doesn't even begin to explain!" she told him in a voice that tried to
be reprimanding, but ended up sounding uncertain. "Retarded might be
closer." Then just as if mocking him was her means to de-stress, she
turned to him, a glint in her eye. "Or how else was my dear boyfriend
expecting late Mr. Saddam to rise from the dead? Simply because he'd
missed making acquaintance with the phenomenal Nikita Malhotra!"
"Its
the 'smitten in love' psychological disorder! Makes you wana show off
your girl to all alike, living or dead!" he stated, in a matter of fact
tone. Nikki bit onto her smile. He was one crazy man. And she was so in
love with him.
"That
sounds much more like it. I was making silly assumptions of your being
overcome by a.... a sudden paroxysm of...partial amnesia... or
something!" He chuckled softly at her play-along retort, rolling his
tongue, especially at her accompanying hand gestures and animated little
frowns. Shaking his head, he drew one of her hands into his and begun
playing with her delicate fingers which looked like a little girl's, in
his very masculine hand.
"Don't
let the med school professors brain feed you with such BS darling!
There's nothing like a 'sudden paroxysm of partial amnesia'." He told
her, in a cheeky tutoring manner. Rubbing his thumb lightly over her
knuckles, then drawing out the fingers and running it over the nails
painted cherry red. Not once, she observed, meeting her gaze directly.
"Yeh? And what kind of medical authority may you be to make such declarations?"
"Oh
trust me I'm a..." he almost did say it in the flow of jesting. Before
biting back the words - 'senior neural surgeon'. "A doctor. Well,
almost."
And he laughed a little. A hesitant laugh. He was nervous, she
didn't know what about, but he was. She knew it already when he begun
fiddling with her hand. It was one of his signs. Instinctively, Nikki
linked her fingers into his, and gave his hand a light squeeze. Making
him look up, into her eyes.
Which
did all the talking on her behalf, as she didn't speak up, right away.
Her smile was urging, and somewhat urgent. It was evident she had had
enough of a wait. Everything about her presence right then assured him
to make peace with doubts and speak his mind. Abhimanyu knew for a
guarantee, this was his chance. Now, or never.
"I'm
a senior neural surgeon." He said. And all her expressions froze into
momentary stillness. Before transformation in them began to take over.
Apprehensively,
his breath was hitched somewhere inside, in his dire need to comprehend
this change. Had he fallen prey to betraying signs?
***
A
knock on his door brought Abhimanyu out of the mire of memories.
Swiftly, he replaced the pristine gild frame into the top drawer before
grunting the customary 'come in'.
"Dr.
Modi, the surgery was successful." he was informed by the resident
doctor who looked unusually bright right out of a 5-hours long
operation. "These are the pre-op tests diagnosing the hemorrhage and the
post-op vital statistics, an hour after surgery."
"Hm."
The resident doctor stood waiting for his senior to peruse the file, with subtle signs of restlessness.
"Have a seat."
"I... yes... thank you."
"No anomalies I can spot. Of course there's still the night ahead to be monitored."
"I did detail out everything about the case to Dr. Grewal." Abhimanyu looked up, surprised.
"But I thought you were on call another 12 hours?"
"Actually,
I took an off for the long weekend. Dr. Grewal is filling in for me." A
brief nod, and his eyes were back to the file.
"Traveling?"
"Yup. Headed east."
Abhimanyu cleared his throat. Then tipped the mid-frame of his glasses sightly up the bridge of his nose.
"East."
He said, hoping not to sound inquisitive, and yet, the question had
been asked.
When he heard the destination spelled out in response, his
breath felt caught somewhere midway on its way out. With an effort, he
cleared his throat again, as if to mobilise a stuck up jam in there.
Some tens of seconds later he shut the file, which he had stopped paying
attention to about a minute ago. Handing it to the resident doctor he
pulled up a smile that was politely curious.
"Tailgating with mates?"
"Er,
no. My girlfriend. She's goes to med school there."
Resuming
the ordinary task of breathing became all the more tedious. A part of
his numb brain detected a muffled scream inside, asking him to get the
damn name. But Abhimanyu quit without putting up a fight, just as the
words seemed ready to tumble out. Instead, he gave a final single nod.
And a bitter smile, which was luckily too faint to betray his emotion.
Then, turning his chair around, he came face to face with the blank wall
behind his desk, which offered him no answers, whatsoever. The agonized
expression of discomfort was kept a secret by his back upon the exiting
resident doctor.
Dr. Armaan Malik.
***
"Abhimanyu...Modi...?"
The
name rolled off her tongue in an alien voice. She sat physically
stunned. The inside of her head, in contradiction, an Atlantic storm;
the inside of her heart, a drum off-rhythm, losing beat. Seconds ticked
away. The raging tempest and the dull thudding overlapped. She felt like
she was drowning a 1000 feet under, into deep waters that had punctured
her lungs, muffled everything into a deafening silence, and eventually,
clouded her mind... and vision.
Actually,
it was the welling of tears. She couldn't feel them really, as they
stung and filled her eyes, suspended in there but they were blinding
everything into a blur of colors. She couldn't feel the choking in her
throat either, but it was rendering her breathing extremely laborious.
"Abhimanyu
Modi.." he confirmed sounding hollow, his expression, on account of
hers, already dreading the worst. She was snapped out of the involuntary
dead weight feeling.
The
sound of that name. Only minutes ago, it would have meant nothing. Just
another name... Now it was like the sound of glass breaking into a
million shards. And the pain that seared through her was like walking
bare feet upon those million pieces.
And she couldn't say what was more unbearable - the numbness from drowning, or this spasm of pain.
How could he? All this time. So many months. Everything was suddenly a lie. He was a lie. They, were a lie.
She'd met this man.
Become friends.
Fallen in love.
Shared her life.
Bared her soul.
Given herself.
Pined for him her waking hours.
Longed for him on long nights.
Loved him with all she had...
Because
it was only with his coming into her life, that she'd ever discovered
hope and care. And trust. That was it! All her insecurities from growing
up in broken homes had been tossed out of the window, and the reclusion
that had seemed eternal had been dispelled. He'd made her want to
believe. And she'd believed him alright. More than anyone, and anything
in the world. Recklessly!
And all that while, she'd been played for such a fool!
She'd
been called the naive country girl from South by many. She'd laughed it
off. The east coast lacked candid innocence, she'd mocked back. And
laughed more as others did on that too. But even he'd said the same.
He'd told her she was too simple. Unassuming. Uncorrupted. Then he'd
said that it was what made her special, for him. And she'd felt
special...
But what he'd really been meaning was this! Oh she was such a fool!
Countless
crisscrossing thoughts went round in circles inside her mind at
dizzying paces. It made her feel faint. She hoped she would faint, and
not wake up... for a long, long time. A paroxysm of partial
amnesia...the cute joke suddenly turned a cruel shade , and a soundless,
mirthless chuckle escaped her through pained expressions.
"Nik..."
She
pushed him, an unbelievable bout of energy surfacing in that instant.
Or maybe it was vehemence. Or wrath. Or all of them. It rose rapidly
inside her, like bubbling sulphuric acid. Refusing to be calmed. His
hand only just made to touch her upon the arm, when she jerked it away,
jumped to her feet and then, fled from the room. All in the blinking of
an eye. To get away from him.
As far away as she could.
***
Can't stop the rain from falling down, oh
Can't stop the world from turnin' round, oh
Can't stop my heart from loving you
No,
no [No, no], no matter what you do, baby ...
A
sudden silence fell over the room as the stereo was knocked off the
shelf, its cord coming lose. The lyrics ahead however continued, as an
echo inside her head.
An
echo of that evening. Another trivial detail mocking at what she was
far from getting over. It had been more than a year since...
In
the residents' lounge, she sat slumped, head held between her hands,
fingers pressing against the temples, hoping to bring some relief from
the tiresome headache. And then this song had begun streaming from the
currently tuned station on the portable stereo stationed across from
where she sat. Although the radio had been playing in the background all
this while, it was only upon recognizing the wretched lyrics that her
attention had been sought.
And so a heavy hard bound from the library had gone flying at the player - in an uncontrollable moment of anguish.
She didn't need any more freaking reminders of that evening for heavens sake! It was what she'd been thinking of anyways, again.
Cause that was what Nikita Malhotra usually did with whatever time she
ever had to herself, when she wasn't just driving herself into sheer
exhaustion with work. Not that she wanted to have anything to do with
this hollow nostalgia. What would she not give to wipe off that chapter
from the book of her life. If only, it were so simple...
If only, she'd ever stop hurting...
There
was just no riddance of his haunting confession. Because all that her
empty days, and nights emptier still ever brought her, were memories of
times with him.
She
had had days, weeks, and eventually months to retrospect. And although
time had not mellowed the pain, it had certainly enabled her to view
facts with lesser prejudice and greater rationality than she had been
capable of initially. She had come to concede that it was unlikely he
had been simply fooling her. Because in hindsight, she could not deny
that the evening had been tumultuous for him too. He had genuinely cared.
However,
the assurance of not having been his little toy was small compared to
the consequent realization. That he had compromised their relationship
from the very point of its inception, by being less than candid. To have
been involved with a man she had never really known
had blasphemy written all over it... like an infamous affair from a
Vegas holiday. It made her genuine, deep love seem like a caprice, a
passing adventure between anonymous chance lovers who eventually moved
on with their respective lives, with nothing more but a little
out-of-line-experience to pocket... It was like having to discover that
the reality she had been living so sincerely, was trapped inside a cock
and bull tale woven to maintain a farce for seemingly harmless fun. And that feeling, she could not brush away.
He had betrayed them.
Because she couldn't forget that, she also couldn't forgive it.
Not forgiving him, it turned out, was not synonymous with not loving the man she had taken to be the one...for her.
No matter what she tried to tell herself, a weak little part of her
head always gave in to wondering if, just in case, she wasn't
misunderstanding. If indeed, listening to him that night could have
cleared her doubts for good. If neither giving him that chance, nor
holding onto 'their thing' had been a hasty decision. If staying apart
actually made sense because her life hadn't really worked out without
him, after him. If, in fact, she genuinely neither wished, nor willed to start all over again.
This time with Abhimanyu Modi.
As that name
entered her thoughts, her jaw hardened. It could not however, suppress
the immense self pity that rose within and moistened her eyes, leaving
her slightly breathless. Absently, she pulled at the top of drawers from
the desk she was seated at. And brought out her inhaler. From habit she
shook it, then pumped in three puffs, before replacing it to its
original spot. Then, sighing, she shut her eyes - which increasingly
stung - while tiredly massaging her aching head. Who was she punishing
anyways - he who had ruined everything that was wonderful in her life,
or herself to have given him the right. Resignedly, she gave up on
trying to fight the vivid memory.
For
what had felt like a long time, she had heard him banging upon her
bedroom door that evening, after she'd locked herself inside. Endearing,
pleading, swearing, imploring that she open up and listen to him, only
listen... He had even offered her sporadic, in-explicit answers from the
outside, but although the words had even reached her for a while, she
had been utterly incapable of processing information.
And
it was some weeks before she could actually brave the depressing
reminders and bring herself to mull over his words - or whatever little
she had heard of them. Sadly (or not) there wasn't much she could recall
that he had said to her. Except the basics. His real name. His real
professional designation. That he really loved her. That he was never
cheating.
However, what drew her attention the most, in retrospect, was the
scenario as such. Like how she had not wondered that evening, given her
devastated state of mind, why he had not just left her alone. Why he was
so bent upon being let inside, and fixing the damage. Why,
he had flown all the way to her campus only to reveal the truth... if
he really gave as little shit about her, as she had initially made
herself believe. Quite simply, she admitted in hindsight, she had been
too distraught herself to be aware of his breakdown. Much less empathize
with him.
It
wasn't much her fault though. His words had been like a bolt from the
blue, and as soon as she'd fled him and receded into her recluse, a
chain reaction of notions had self triggered inside her head, all of
which had led her to this ugly, and cheap, and very trashy revelation
about her position in their 'relationship'. Her self esteem, so to say,
had plummeted to an all time low; her mind was befuddled out of
proportion, and her heart pained like it was physically stabbed. The
initial unfeeling but incessant flow of tears had eventually worked
themselves into hollering cries, till she was far too enervate for the
effort. Her breathing had become dangerously ragged, her head spinning
had zoned out and gradually the sobbing had muffled down until she
really did pass out.
When
she had come around again, she wasn't sure what had woken her up. The
apartment had been bathed in an eerie stillness. In a flash, the events
preceding her passing out had come back to her and although she was a
medical student, she'd never have known how to diagnose the pain inside,
nor how to subside it. It had killed something inside her to admit that
she had still thought about him, wondered if he had left or...Hastily, she had forced her mind shut.
Looking
at the sky outside the window by her bed she had found it laden with
more snow to come. It did however look on the brink of dawn break, and
although her eyes had stung, her throat had felt parched and her entire
body had ached, she had dragged herself out of bed. After a quarter hour
of blankly staring at the bathroom mirror, another hour of trying to
drown herself in the bath tub (in vain), and mechanical ten minutes of
dressing herself in work formals without much care to how spent she
looked, she had unlocked her door - and found him half leaning in the
uncomfortably sprawled position against the wall right by the door.
Her
hand had flown to her mouth, to cover the cry that would have escaped
otherwise, and she was almost decided upon locking herself back in the
room till somehow, life would desert her body. Just the memory of the
sight of him in that form made her eyes sting now, in the residents'
lounge even a year later, and she buried her face firmly into her hands.
In
an objective perspective, she may have appeared to be making too much
fuss over a mere name. But even as time had passed her by, the clouds of
misgivings and gloom had never quite cleared out. Over and above all
thoughts was one - him having hidden his identity from her, amidst the
kind of unrestrained intimacy that their bond held. And every time she
thought of it like that, the idea repulsed her. That self judging
predicament did not let her drop her guard anymore. Even under the
influence of occasional weak moments.
Months
had passed, and never could she think of that night and its series of
events and consequences without arousal of this complicated mix of
emotions within her. Her initial determination to close the chapter
always seemed to find temptation to waver, and honest to herself, she
just didn't know what she wanted anymore.
After several seconds Nikki finally looked up. Eyes bloodshot from the tears she had stubbornly held back on. As if!
A glance at the wall clock announced 6AM, and it made her groan. Two
hours, to her next shift. She had no hope for sleep to oblige her
anymore than it usually did, and resigning to thoughts of him, she made
some effort to deviate them to happier times... say for example, the
time when it had all begun..
The Christmas ball - a masquerade - two winters ago.
***
"Nikki! Please open the door!"
His
pleading went in vain for the nth time, and his awareness of the damage
done grew exponentially. As she continued crying, he stared dejectedly
at the door separating them.
"Nikki...sweetheart, hush! Please...you've got to stop crying. Its going to trigger the asthma-"
A
crash followed from somewhere inside, cutting him short, and although
it was only moderately loud, Abhimanyu immediately panicked. "NIKKI!
What was that? Are you okay? ANSWER ME NIKITA! Please...! Say you're not
doing anything stupid!...Nikki? NIKKI! Are you even listening?! OPEN
THE DOOR DAMN IT!"
It
didn't help to yell at her, anymore than it had to grovel and beg. She
had to quit pushing him away. He could tell she still cared, or would
she suffer so much on his account? "If you plan to stay locked up inside
all your life," he told her softly, in a somewhat regained resolve.
"Then you should know that I'm just going to spend mine standing at your
door. Because I'm going no where till you listen to me. One last time."
He crossed his fingers before the last words. Then stood looking at the
door impassively for a few minutes, but there was still no response.
Damn her, he swore! She obviously cared. Why not just listen to him? A
small voice inside his head pointed out that while she could perhaps not
help caring, she could certainly help not trusting him again. Not even
one last time. And it spoke volumes about how deeply hurt she was.
If
Abhimanyu Modi had a way, he would have remained Armaan Malik all his
life. Why did it matter so bloody much?!!! Had it been a mistake telling
her..? But she had to know, she would have learned of it later, if not
sooner. Procrastinating would not change the fact, it could have
worsened matters for all he knew... Yet, could anything be worse than
this? Ought he have waited longer, bidding a better occasion? Maybe his
confession was most an outcome of his own dire need to stop living the
farce which was killing him inside slowly, like a drug. Maybe, it had
been entirely selfish. Maybe...honesty was not the best policy after all? Maybe, maybe maybe!
A ghost of a bitter scoff escaped him - honesty?! Who was he kidding here?!
Running
a flustered hand through his dishevelled hair he hammered the door as
persistently as he had...for a while now. His hands were going to be
bruised, and swollen, and hurting later. But he did not realize, and he
couldn't have cared less anyways. Because all he could hear was her sobs
and hiccups. She was going to get ill if she didn't stop. There had to
be something better he could do than being stuck at this cursed door! If
only she would let him inside...he would make it up to her, no matter
what it took. He would make it alright...
Exceedingly defeated, he couldn't help but distantly wonder, if he could make things right again, just like before?
"I'm
sorry baby, I really am. Please...please open the door! I swear its not
what you're imagining. Not all of it... I could never cheat you." He
sighed heavily, shutting his eyes and leaning his forehead against the
cold door, "I wouldn't dream of it Nikki..." and swallowed, "Never...not
if my life depended on it!" The latter bit mumbled more in assurance to
himself, like he needed to know, and believe, that he wasn't such a bad
person. It was hard, considering how rotten he felt about himself. "I
never meant for any of this to happen...I didn't foresee we would
happen...you and me...wont you listen to me just once Nikita?" The non
replying silence continued to fill the distance between them (except her
crying) and he didn't know how long he could stand to bear this
stagnation...when it was evident how much she needed him. "You have to
let me inside baby..." he continued urging her, however dim his hopes of
persuading, "And stop crying will you? Are you listening Nikki? I know
I've hurt you immensely, but wont you give me one last chance? " And
again, he rapped upon the door. Then in a burst of exhaustion and
frustration he slammed a heavy fist into it. Making it reverberate about
its joints. "NIKKI! OPEN UP BEFORE I BREAK THIS THING!" She didn't.
"You're freaking angry so open the damn door and do what you want to get
back at me!" Then, abruptly, his athletic form just collapsed down to
his knees. The outburst he was fighting all that time broke like a damn,
he buried his face into his hands and cried, "I love you Nikki...don't
you know?...Can't you see?"
And
it was like that for a while. Before he recollected himself, then
wiping his face off his sleeves, he got back to his feet once more. His
resolve, weaker, but without option.
"Fine."
he announced, sounding audibly hoarse. "Have it your way. But you're
going to listen to me alright. Whether or not you let me in..." and
whether or not you forgive me, he thought grimly to himself. He couldn't
help but notice that her crying had subsided. Perhaps his own outburst
had quietened her, even if it couldn't move her enough to open the door?
He felt a brief glimmer of hope. Yes, there was a chance that she was
going to listen to him now...even if he could do nothing about this
physical distance between them.
"You
remember how you spilled your drink on me at the ball? The first time
we met? And we fought? You didn't know me, and I didn't either, but I
was on the organizing committee.." he paused pressing his lips into a
thin line, "As a senior Fellow with the hospital. I'd just moved there
that same fall, after completing med school. Here.
Same campus, same professors, same OTs...same everything...as you." He
paused again. It was almost like he was talking to her face to face, and
wanted to watch out for her reaction to that bit of information.
Except, the blank door staring back at him was all he had to go by. He
bid himself to be optimistic for now, and let her silence pass for a
subtle indication that she was listening to him carefully. Which
mattered to him more than anything else at the moment. He didn't know
another time in life that he'd made a confession in such earnest and
died every second to know what he was bidding for in return. Anyways, he
continued.
"So
I was in good rapport with most other co-organizers, and it didn't take
much work for me to find out who you were. I don't know why I looked it
up though. It wasn't that big - our little tiff I mean - I think I was
just being stuck up. Well, so after I knew you were just a beginner at
med school, I sort of...erm...how do you say that...I dunno...got all
superior and wicked in the head?" he stopped frowning at himself, then
added on an after thought, "I wasn't really the nice kind of nice guy
then." Just the way he said that made him wonder if she would want to
tell him he still wasn't a nice guy. Abhimanyu sighed again. "Basically,
I just conjured up this vague game plan to play a little prank and get
you to...uh...like...sort of humble down...accept defeat...or
something..." He paused, feeling very discomfited with the way this
confession was happening. With the way his narration was sounding. He'd
given this so many months of thought...but what the hell was he telling
her now! If there was a remote chance of being forgiven, he was pushing
it away with both hands. Like hell, here she was shut out on him
thinking he was a cheat or playboy, or god knew what; and he was telling
her he was not a nice guy, and that it had been a prank. Great! That
would do wonders.
"Nikki..."
he stuttered abruptly, "Ignore what I said. No. I mean...this is not
what I'm trying to tell you. I don't even know if you're listening to
me. Are you?" Of course, he met only silence in response, which he
didn't exactly like. But then he also wasn't exactly a man with too many
choices at that moment. "I just...its just this - I thought I'd sort of
get even with you, and I didn't have a concrete 'insult you' master
plan in my head, but I grabbed a mask and pulled you on the floor for a
dance. The masquerade obviously helped cause you didn't realize it was
me, the arguing guy, and I knew it was you, the answer back girl..."
For
a moment, Abhimanyu couldn't help but smile a small smile at the way
he'd tagged them both. But the silence around reminded him he was not
eliciting response out of her, she wasn't even crying out loud
anymore...for the third time he wondered if she was listening at all. Bidding himself to not think negatively, he was resigned to continue.
"I
thought I'd come up with a spontaneous idea while dancing and...get my
revenge. But I hadn't bargained for was having so much fun. Real fun.
You know I've always wondered why I ever decided to become a doctor. Its
that all work no play field and I'm not that kind of guy. It didn't
matter that much while I was still in school...cause...school's school.
There's always scope to do crazy things. It balances out. Being a Fellow
sucks. The only people I ever interacted with were unconscious patients
in drab hospital gowns, droning or screeching nurses, always grave
sounding seniors, deans, board members...and...I don't know...
hysterical relatives of patients...? Not exactly the indulgent kind of
company. You can imagine how dancing with you was..." he paused, and the
expression that flitted across his face would have said the emotion
best. But she wasn't there to watch it. "It was liberating. It made me
realize with quite a start, how...caged my life had become in those few
months. How I'd stopped having a life at all. It was...you know... like
that entire bubble of superiority I'd had minutes before, burst inside
me, with a big bang. In having shared those few dances with you, we'd
switched places. I was the loser senior living a monotony...you were the
fresh med school student with a pluck about her...And I envied that. I
envied you so much..." Abhimanyu stopped, remembering that evening. He
didn't know if she could empathize with his feelings as he laid them out
for her. It had been a surreal experience, with a kick of reality that
had made him introspect all night long. By the time it was dawn break,
an ideal white Christmas had welcomed him, and he had decided new year
resolutions could be made a few days in advance. Top of the list being
having a life again. He didn't want to grow old like one of those world
famous surgeons who met unfortunate ends in massive cardiac arrests from
having led stressful lives... No. He wanted better for himself. And
instinct told him it would begin with her.
"You
remember how annoyed you were with me insistently calling you
'Cinderella' even though you gave me daggers for it? I teased you about
having disappeared at the midnight hour when everyone had just begun
wishing everyone else. But it had been real for me, the tease, on
account of the wake up call you had indirectly triggered in my life. It
was like...I just knew, I had to pursue my new found cause, and for that
I had to find you. Obviously, you had all the reasons to be skeptical
about an arrogant stranger from a ball night, showing up at your door
step - you have no clue how - at 8AM on a holiday, to say that he
enjoyed dancing with you...and would like to be friends..."
Inevitably,
the memory of her face when he'd shown up at her door step with flowers
made him chuckle softly. And again, his own reaction made him aware of
her lack of it. Instantly the chuckle was wiped off and replaced by a
pained expression. Was he really going to lose all that they had? Had he
already lost it?
Abhimanyu Modi inhaled deeply. Because he had reached that point in his narration.
The turning point. Of why and how he had chosen the pretense of 'Armaan Malik'.
***
Abhimanyu
sat alone in his cabin, picking distractedly at the salad. Every time
he thought about his mistake, his opinion was half divided. While a part
of him had never ceased to wallow in regret, a part of him just wanted
to break free and question why the issue had been blown unnecessarily
out of proportion. Had he not explained himself enough? Had she really
not believed him for a second. Could she not see his true emotion that
underlay a series of circumstances that had happened before he knew what
or how to retrace and change them? The one thing he could have
done, was not keeping her in the dark so long. But going by the outcome
of his eventual confession, he wondered if it would have been any
different...
Why, or why did she have to call it quits!
He
remembered waking up, that morning after, abruptly, at an unknown hour
after having exhausted himself into a fitful, restless sleep. He had
after all not slept in almost two entire days by then. Ignoring the very
disturbed and highly insufficient nap at the hotel before her call had
woken him up. He thought about that call, and swallowed at the welling
in his throat. Everything had been so different then. She'd gotten mad
at him, worried about him, gossiped about her vain neighbour, and even
asked him to make choice for her dinner...she was like that - a little
bit of everything packed up into that one, his love Nikita. There had
always been this childlike, pure innocence about her, and much about the
spark he had felt with her had to do with her candor and absolutely
unaffected demeanor. It was incredible how caring she was inherently as a
person, and yet how little damn she gave to what people thought or made
of her, as long as she was doing her own thing, her own way. She was a
rebel, and she was a fierce loyalist. She had been his personal little
Pandora's box.
Once upon a time.
Because the very last time that he had seen her, he distinctly
remembered, there had remained no trace of the girl he knew and loved,
in the face that had looked at him like a stranger. Abhimanyu sighed
heavily, pushing away dinner plate. Recalling that morning after, and
its culminating series of events.
***
When
he woke up, it was already morning. For some seconds, his eyes hurt
from being exceptionally dry and exceptionally tired, and it was some
more seconds of adjusting to the dim lighting around and being at a loss
of comprehending his whereabouts. Then, the sight of her bedroom door
slightly ajar met his crinkled eyes and immediately, they widened.
Everything was back in a flash. Hurriedly he straightened and was up on
his feet, walking into her room. The bed was unmade, a damp towel was
strewn over the chair by her work desk, the wardrobe was not well shut
such that it offered a peak inside to him...and the door to the attached
bathroom was also left ajar. It was from there, he realized, that the
strong essence of a fresh shower, and her, mingled and reached his nose.
He felt desire and loss rise within from the pit of his stomach, and
shakily, he ran a hand through his hair. Although it was evident enough,
he softly called out her name. And expectantly, he got no response.
He
felt so tired, mentally and physically, that the sight of her bed, with
sheets that would smell of her presence no doubt, messily scattered
over, was plainly inviting to him. But anxiety got the better of him and
he dragged his feet out of her bedroom to look for her other places.
Except, she was no where to be found.
Shit!
Had he missed her? It was decidedly early for any kind of classes yet..
He couldn't believe he hadn't sensed her presence around him when she'd
walked out that door where he'd crashed. But it wasn't any easier to
believe either, that she hadn't bothered with him. It was a hard hitting
reality check. He couldn't make up his mind as to whether it was better
to be patient and allow her this time she needed, or to cajole her into
responding, someway, anyway... For the life of him, he couldn't
conjecture about what was going on in that complicated head of hers.
Except, that it wasn't looking too good for him, for now.
And if that had not been good, it only got bad and then worse.
He'd
dialed her, only once because he'd gotten her voicemail and figured the
cell was switched off for the obvious reason. He'd begun to leave her
an awkward message, then abruptly shut his phone. It had led him into
serious debate - as to whether it was better to wait for her to return,
or go look for her at the hospital. Although his obvious preference has
been the former, he'd managed, somehow, to order himself to restrain and
discipline, contemplating that her work was not what he wanted to mess
up for her next. It was obvious that she was keeping her distance,
trying his chance to confront her at the hospital was...unfortunately
not the right thing to do.
Once
that was final, he'd passed the excruciatingly slow hours in tidying up
her place - between the two of them, he had always been the organized
one - getting online to check emails, taking a quick shower, flipping
through TV channels...and intermittently pacing the floors. When he was
tired of all those things, he'd walked into the kitchen and realized how
hungry he was, and had stirred up a quick pasta. Only to discover in
the end that he had neither the heart, nor the appetite for it anymore.
Of course, a part of it was guilt, he couldn't help but wonder if she
had eaten at all. Ultimately, he'd dumped it into a bowl, sealed it and
put it away into the refrigerator. Early in the afternoon he'd felt
sleep trying to take over. Immediately, he'd made himself a jar of
coffee. there was no affording a second time of missing her, in case she
dropped by. At that thought, he had decided he could call the hospital
and check her whereabouts. He was mildly irritated with himself to have
not come up with it before, but then he just hastened to make he call.
They'd put him on a hold for quite a while, before informing him that
she had taken special permission to be able to witness an ongoing
surgery in the Oncology OT.
Two
things had struck him immediately. Her younger sister, the only real
sibling she had ever had. Who had lost her life to an extremely rare
form of early years cancer. It happened to be the untimely death of her
younger sister that had eventually ripped her home, her parents apart.
Although Nikki had never talked too much about her, Abhimanyu knew for a
fact that it was one of those many sad truths from her childhood which
had made her an overtly reticent person in general. He dreaded having
pushed her back into those hellish memories. Secondly, he mused, even
more miserably, she was avoiding him. If she thought he was still here,
and was taking permission to attend extra surgeries, there was only one
meaning to it. She wasn't going to find it easy to forgive him anytime
soon.
Somehow,
he'd forced himself to stay calm, and patient. And wait for her. And
somehow, he had toiled through the next 4 hours. Before calling again.
First her cell phone, which was still going to the voice mail; then the
hospital. The lady answering the phone this time, was not too thrilled
about obliging him, but he insisted that it was very urgent and
reluctantly, she had relented. When she informed him of Nikita's having
gone in for a surgery, another in the Oncology Unit, Abhimanyu had
clicked shut his phone without waiting to hear more or bothering with
saying his thank yous.
Because it had hit him now - crystal clear.
She
had figured he wouldn't just go away. She was working her way around
it. It was likely, that she was keeping track of calls that had come in
for her, so she knew, he was still here. But how long could it go on
like this. This was ridiculous!
He
decided in that instant, to put an end to this game of hide and seek.
He had tried very hard to keep this away from her work, but she wasn't
leaving him with much choice because he couldn't stand being patient
about this any longer. And that was how he had ended up going to the
hospital.
Without
need for instructions he'd found his way to the Oncology Unit, and
further to the information desk to confirm details of the ongoing
surgeries. Waves of nostalgia would have washed him over for sure, if he
hadn't been in such a preoccupied state of mind otherwise. In fact, it
had surprised him, when some senior doctors he crossed paths with
through those once familiar corridors, had recognized, and acknowledged
his presence quite promptly. When a couple of nurses on the elevator had
wished him, he had guessed they knew him from his student years too,
and had been somewhat embarrassed to not remember their names; but he'd
smiled genuinely, hoping it covered his tracks without becoming awkward.
At
the desk, he was in the middle of his question as to her whereabouts,
when a young good looking doctor still in scrubs had mentioned, with a
grin that was too wide for Abhi's liking, that he'd seen 'Chikki' headed
towards the cafe after surgery. If Abhimanyu had wanted to feel
possessive or jealous or anything like it, he hadn't had the time for
then. Immediately, he'd retraced his steps to the said place...and it
was from outside, through the glass doors, that he'd found her carrying a
tall cup of coffee to an empty side table. Just coffee, he'd noticed,
nothing to eat with it. Had she not then...?He sighed shaking his head
lightly, and making way through the doors towards her. As he neared, he
saw her dig out a bottle of what he recognized was high dosage Advil,
and he saw her draw 2 pills at once. Abhimanyu flinched, rushing his
final steps, and just before she could toss them into her mouth, he
touched upon her shoulder.
Which immediately stiffened under his hand.
"Nikki..."
For
a moment, she didn't respond, as he awaited her reaction. When she did
stand up and turn around to face him, Abhimanyu thought there was no
sight that he wouldn't chose to see , over this.
"Yes?"
With
that one monosyllabic question, she gave him all his answers. Her eyes
were blank. They held no recognition, whatsoever, no love or hatred or
pain or ...anything else for that matter. Her voice was flat, except the
ring of an enquiry to it, the polite kind, as when one stranger,
addresses another.
And
he knew then, that he had not only ceased to be the man she loved, but
also a man she could ever hate. He was one thing, and one alone to her
now - a stranger...
And in the silence and paralysis that seemed to grip him all over he heard but one sound - that of his heart breaking.
***
A
shrill beep pierced his memories. And even as he cursed the pager for
giving him a start, he secretly thanked it for the distraction from that
last thought...although the sight of her face from that instant
continued to float in front of his eyes.
Forcefully,
he trained his eyes upon the message the flashed on the drab LCD. And
then he swore a second time. One of his long time senior patients had
had a major relapse of unbearable pain in his head. Immediate statistics
had shown reason to wheel him in for surgery.
He'd been summoned to the OT for the emergency.
Pulling
on the last hand glove, as he walked his last steps towards the OT,
with a resident doctor briefing him with the update, his thoughts went
to the patient. He wondered if he could come out of this one alive. It
was a critical relapse, and he didn't have bright hope for the man. Then
he thought of his wife. They had been married for 45 years. 45 years of
togetherness and love. Perhaps the old man would live, not giving up
for the woman he loved. He had that fighting reason after all...
And
he thought if his own cause was truly lost forever... For a fleeting
instant, he was overcome by the boy he had once been. And in that
instant, he bid himself on a chance - if the old man survived this
operation, his love would come back to him...someday...
***
PS: THIS PART WAS FOR THE ONE PERSON WHO INDIRECTLY MADE IT HAPPEN - Sheena!!! 🤗
Edited by spln - 13 years ago
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