Joined: 10 July 2005
Hi all, sorry, couldn't help it... rambling kii addat hai, as some of
you may know. Here's a little something for Sid-Rid fans, please feel free to
suggest/criticize, etc. Also, forgive the mistakes, I don't really edit
these things much,
P.S. want to dedicate this lil bit to a dear friend, Sid,
Sid-Rid Short Story
by desi chic India-forums
Tu jahan, main vahan...
Sang sang yoon chaloon tere... jaise tera aasman.
Silence... it engulfed her like a storm. She could feel it inch towards her soul, whispering past each breath. At times, it felt unbearable. Yet still, it was a companion, or so she consoled herself. It was a partner in her solitary decision... a right she had taken which had full potential of turning wrong. But she never allowed that thought enter her mind. Never let it deceive her a second of the past six months... months infused with the noises of life, but radiating with a much voluminous silence. Looking down, her tired eyes never reached the ground, rather, they were ceased in their course by the bump protruding from her abdomen. Instantly, a calming warmth washed over her. This was why. Delicately, affectionately, she rubbed her hand over her belly, an unabashed pride glazing over her vision. She didn't cry, it was a luxury she refused herself. A part of her felt undeserving of it, she did not earn the right to cry about anything... It was a decision, a solitary decision... a determined right, she told herself. Leaning back into the comfortable rocker, she lifted her gaze across to the right.
Her attention was taken, like so many times before, by the vast skies... the aasma. It was majestic in its changing hues, its breadth... Like the million times before, her breath faintly caught off guard at the stupefying splendour. How could something be so far away, remote to the senses, yet feel like it lay in the palm of a child's hand... or the eyes of a chronic dreamer. It housed the universe, untainted by prejudices, like the arms of a mother. A faint, nostalgic smile seeped into her silent lips. She could feel tender movements within her stomach... they were demanding, painful even, yet she relished the feeling. Feeling. She was thankful for that ability. It would always be with her, that feeling... that inescapable feeling that melted each drop of sorrow impinging her soul. Voluntarily, her closed eyes painted that feeling into a picture, one she had recited, painted, perfected, mulled, amazed at... The movements eased, dimming into a slumber. It always had an affect like that, the picture did... it soaked away every ounce of ache trembling her body, mind, soul... just like that. She let the reverie linger before her closed gaze a while longer... the rocker imitating her steadiness through a comfortable rhythm.
After the soundless pause, her curtains lifted to the whiff of
familiarity around her. Sitting obediently on the little table next to her, was
a rectangular object outlined in crme and crimson. A part of her swelled while
another craved for something aroused by the album... memories. Her hand
made a comforting circular movement over her belly again as she reached out
gingerly for the book of yaadien.
"Beta, aaj mamma aapko kuch tasveerein dikhaayengi," she spoke with a softness that it rang soulfully through the walls. "Kuch mamma ki... kuch... papa ki..." her voice trailed, giving away her tender spot. For a reminiscent pause, her mind soared to a remote land, a world of moments captured in time... just like the treasures encased in the book laying in her lap. Her fingers stroked the outskirts of the velvety cover, lingering at the bottom right, before turning it open. Immediately, she felt a rush of yaadien overwhelm her like a pulsating stream coming to an edge where it would merge into the downward flow of a waterfall... The image stained her eyes with acidic moisture and she found her fingers lift the corner to the next slide. Staring back at her through the page was a smiling young man, probably in his early teens. He was flaring a black tuxedo, a red bow tie icing the cake. The eyes were dark, mischief-laced... just like the sly grin playing upon the lips. To the passive observer, the features expressed nothing more than an unusually composed boy in his early years... They could never guess what lay between the lines, no one could. That was him. Her eyes smiled, he was one of a kind.
Turning the page, she caught another toothy smile, accompanying the familiar one... Two boys looking very... well, boyish. Their hair was matted down over their foreheads, their eyes sparkling, giving an air of impish flavour. The taller of the two, who also happened to be thinner, was standing a little to the right, leaving a visible gap between him and other, who was... holding a water hose. While a tinge guilt was fanning off the taller boy's smile, the younger seemed quite satisfied holding the green snake over his head, immersing himself in the gush of liquid air... Like such, her fingers glided towards the edge of each page, sifting through the sands of time in search of inevitable.
At the present, her attention froze on a particular event caught mid-moment. At a distance, the breezy glance would notice a blend of colours... vibrant and alive. It was only when you stepped closer to the past, did one notice the details, the life, the oblivious persons busied in preparations. The moment was caught in levels, four to be exact. The front aangan (yard), the second storey, the top storey, followed by the boundless sky. Two men carried a rather heavy looking cauldron close to where the image was was captured' the creases on their foreheads proving the toughness of the task. On another side, a bit farther, sat a group of women on a portable bed, tending to vegetables for cooking. Their sparkling eyes and varied smiles suggested a casual chatter. Next to them three children with wondering eyes looked on while their fourth companion struggled to balance herself mid-step in an intense round of hopscotch. Blotches of men, women, children scattered the distance capturing the second storey of the antique, yet a la mode building. Her attention shifted casually towards the sky and wandered again to the rest of the radiant scene... and froze. Her awed thoughts froze in their mindless wandering, as though put on pause through the unexpected press of a button.... and then rewind.
They ceased on a small figure standing in the lowest level, but at a distance from the camera. Her eyes narrowed, immediately recognizing the dark, solid features standing aside from the rest of the colourful mirage. It was him. His dusky features were accompanied by a black kurta, while a blood red stole highlighted his presence. The silky red snake hung around his neck seemed caught off-guard as his hand withheld it from falling... yet his real attention was elsewhere. Her own eyes wandered up the heights of the reverie, stopping at the flash of yellow flying in the air... Just beneath it, was another blur of movement... an equally engaging yellow wrapped around a figure. A wave of black hair refused a peak of the owner's face. Voluntarily, her heart began to race. She trailed back to him, it wasn't just the stole she realized... There was a slight glare where his hand encased something else... Around her, she could feel the past suddenly begin to come alive again...
"Ridhimma!" She jumped slightly, before stopping mid-action. Maa. Uh-oh. She could feel the temperature begin to rise indefinitely, aaj tu gayee Ridzy, she thought dreadfully. Padma Gupta, her wonderful, strict, dear mother would have her head if she caught her younger daughter skipping around with kids half her age... especially since it was her elder daughter's wedding that evening! Hai sayapa, she murmured irratatedly, before pushing her last marble into a startled girl's hands. "Tum bache bhi na, khud toh kuch karte nahin, aur kissi aur ko karne nahin dete," she justified herself as loud as she could. Could the deaf walls carry her echo to her likely reddened mum? Well, she was the one who told her, deewaron ke bhi kaan hote hain, so didn't they have a voice too? Meh, seemed logical enough... or maybe not.
With a urgent spring in her stride, she moved towards the second level, trying to remember what her mother was calling her for. Aaloo, no, the women downstairs were already helping the halwai with that. Naareeyal, but the panditji was going to bring that along. Stopping, she looked up towards the open blueness welcoming her vision. Folding her hands animately, she blew into the soft air, "Hai rabji, hunn tussi hi kuch karo." And that's when it came to her... and went... down... down... down... Hai rabji! She thought, remembering her mother had asked her to bring the silver payals she had stored in her closet two nights ago. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched one of the jewels sing a melody deaf to wanderers, but echoed against the walls of her ribcage. Rabji, she exhaled, forgetting momentarily to inhale. Below, she could faintly catch the movement of a bold red against an equally night-like black' a flash of movement, the curve of a hand' "Ridzy!" Startled out of the slow-motion track, her feet shifted into gear, rushing her towards the stairs a few feet ahead. The distance suddenly felt like it was far, too far' She was panting by the time she reached the ground level. Her eyes danced wildly through the mesh of shades and textures. She waited, hoping to make out the edges of shapes, the curves' but they all blended. In the distance, she could still hear the soft pedaling of the payal, as though laughing at her, saying goodbye.
Her eyes began to well, what was she going to do now. Closing them, she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind, those payals were made for Anjie Di's wedding. When she re-opened her veils to take in the world, it had thankfully returned to its definitive texture. But her heartbeats were taken away' following the shadowy figure she tried to follow vainly through the abundance of life around her... bustling about. She tried opening her mouth, "Suniye'" but the aangan suddenly seemed to have become overly crowded. Panic surged through her blood, mixing with fear. "Ridzy, kahan thi tu, Maa kabse tujhe bula rahe hai."
Composing herself, she turned to a face laced with growing concern. "Ridzy, kya hua babu." Her feeble heart, immediately, the house of cards came tumbling down and she hugged her sister despite herself. "Di, wohe' maa-ne-wohe-payal-mangawai-thi-wohe-gir-gayee-ab-kya-hoga-Di'" she blurted out, ending on a breathless trail while shutting her eyes tight, hoping for it all to be ok' But when she lifted her lashes, Padma Gupta's brilliant eyes flashed towards her in piercing anger' she could feel them jab her existence, forcing her to look to the ground for unfound solace. She clutched to her sister, wrapping her arms tighter around her, but Anjie Di knew her too well. Much to her dismay, her sister pulled away, seriousness written across her beautiful face. But her own eyes were too preoccupied with the unseen crumbs upon the cement for a moment to confront the situation. Her heart was thudding against her chest, hard.
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Joined: 10 July 2005
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Crazy Creatives Lead
Joined: 17 February 2010
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ridz not as ridz soo weird
Author: ___fanaa4u___ Replies: 11 Views: 1621
|___fanaa4u___||11||1621||11 June 2010 at 8:58am by rk_ms|
Arman-ridz or Sid-ridz???
Author: Swati01 Replies: 13 Views: 1886
|Swati01||13||1886||22 February 2010 at 2:15am by Sano88|
Ridz does not look or act like Ridz we all knew
Author: rickks Replies: 15 Views: 2643
|rickks||15||2643||08 January 2010 at 2:24pm by ---ayesha---|
Sid n Ridz track not same as Rahul n Abhi wid Ridz
Author: rickks Replies: 1 Views: 1234
|rickks||1||1234||06 January 2010 at 7:44pm by *Shruti*|
Barun has come a long way since his debut. and here are a few reasons ...
Some of the best love stories come from TV serials.
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