Okie guys, here comes another one... I
still have to finish it, but Pragzie kii demand par here is the rambler's
humble offering for SR fans... A little something in ancipation of the
party-scene. Please feel free to leave any
comments/criticisms(honest)/suggestions, etc. And if you don't appreciate SR,
please do not leave any uneccessary remarks, and I appreciate everyone's time!
Also, I have no title, so if you have suggestions... please enlighten me. And I
don't edit these things really, so forgive the mistakes!
And one last thing... I've included some lines there which I will leave for a
little bit. I've seen some of my stuff copied and pasted in other forums and it
is not a pleasant feeling and will not be tolerated. So please enjoy and not
destroy.
Sidhimma One-Shot Untitled
"Mere dil... tumse... kehna... bas mere hi… rehna…" Irritation swept his being as his attention was consumed by the red-clad figure humming dazily to herself. The figure stood apart from the rest of the crowd, as though lost amidst her own world. Despite himself, his eyes zoomed in on the face with its almond-shaped eyes, pointed nose and cerise lips that were curved slightly, but noticeably upwards at the edges. Her majestic waves of black hair circled her every gesture, while the night's gentle breeze kissed her skin... Unknowingly, a smile crept up through the edges of his mouth and lingered reminiscently for a moment longer.
Like fate, his eyes betrayed him and the trance was broken with a blink. Before him, the red-clad figure remained untainted, and he was welcomed again by that heavy exhaustion that seemed to be the story of his life. The night was starting to grow old and his patience was also wearing thin. A tender spot on his temple bubbled in anxiety and he suddenly felt very hot. Jumbled sounds of laughter pierced through his silence and he found his gaze shift towards the stage, where his friends, forgotten in the abyss of intoxication and unknown celebration tested their arms and legs in new ways. Among them was him.
Armaan.
He never hated that name, nor its owner. He never could. In fact, deep within his heart he nurtured a lot of respect for the man who stole his wife's heart. The owner of that heart could never be wrong. He knew that Armaan was a sacred part of his wife's past, something that was irreversible, pure, and untouchable. During his estranged "courtship" with her, he had come to realize that the relationship between these two was something outside the grasp of those who tried to understand it... and as such, he had never made the attempt. He just wanted to let it be, because they were meant to be. Indeed, he harboured feelings for his wife that surpassed anything that he had imagined... known... would know. Measuring those feelings was an impossible feat, yet how could it match up to all the years that Armaan shared with her.
Refocusing, he felt his feet shift out of surprise... Armaan was no longer there. Glazing his eyes across the open space, he found his unfaltering persona fall prey to the unabashed flow of a rouge dupatta. Behind, a similarly-clad female came running. Unwillingly, curiosity bubbled in his chest. But discovery was cut short as he felt a tug on his left arm. Turning towards it, he felt the warmth of her slender fingers encasing his upper arm with both hands. Following the length of her arms, his gaze was taken by her frowning face.
"Sid, mujhe ice-cream khaani hain," she demanded with an impish whine. Even under the fading light, her soft eyes sparkled brilliantly, emanating an innocence untouched. She shook his arm again, pouting her lips in slight exaggeration... and then leaning her head back. Instinctively, his other arm wrapped securely around the back of her abdomen, holding her away from the earth. A sudden urge bubbled upwards from some corner of his existence to hang on, tight... and watch the word whizz past. The desire surged through the rest of him, making the ends of each nerve tingle. For a moment, he watched dazed as she swung from side-to-side, her head back... strands of her black mane following her movements. Lowered giggles escaped her lips as she continued to mumble something... "Ice-cream... khayenge... " And just as suddenly, her movements seized and he found her honey-glazed eyes pour deeply into his. Feeling suddenly off-guard his feet faltered and he took a step back. An inexplicable vulnerability washed over his existence and he struggled under her shameless gaze. It was as though she were unearthing him, tearing apart his layers... the walls that he had so difficultly built, breath by breath... And here she was, stealing those breaths away... again.
Something changed in her expression in passing. He tried to catch it, but the sand had trickled too fast and there was no turning back. She took two steps back... and then one... The stealthy upward curve of her mouth made his skin prickle. Slowly, but surely, the smile grew, ultimately bursting into blatant laughter. Confusion and curiosity moved into his face as he tried to comprehend the sudden change in her stance... and then it hit him, literally.
"Ridhima!" he bellowed in surprise as a gush of cool liquid attacked his chest... face... neck... Holding up his hands to his face, he took a sideward glance at his highly amused wife. The fury in his innards subsided almost immediately as he took in her euphoria. Unknowingly, his hands fell and he let the cool surging through the green snake down him, while he enjoyed something that he wondered he would ever have the pleasure to see again. The air felt clean, calm, supreme... his body felt light as she let go of the snake and did a twirl. Not knowing what had overcome him, he found a mischievous grin sneak upon his lips and he ran towards the hose, taking it up and pouring it lushly across the dreamy figure swirling, laughing, running... "Sidhant..." Content rose to his cheeks and he realized that she was tired and had found herself a spot for herself on the wet grass. The cheekiness escaped his realm and entered hers, he could see it in the tight-lipped expression hovering over her face. Throwing the green instrument aside, he walked towards the tap and turned it off. Turning back towards her, a pang of fear jerked him alert. Looking about, he realized that they had somehow drifted from the crowd and entered the backyard... and she had disappeared, again.
"Rid..." he started to call, but someone beat him to it. Feeling a tap on his shoulder, he turned around to be captured by a face creased inquisitively. "Yeh Ridhima kaun hain?" Her tone conveyed all the world's honesty and a smile tingled on his lips yet again. He decided to play along, realizing that she needed to get inside the house before she caught a cold.
"Ridhima?" he wondered aloud, matching her genuineness. She blinked in blankness as he wrapped an arm around her, leading her towards the backdoor. "Woh ek ladki... nayi nayi... ladki nayi" he tried and it worked as her eyes grew bigger. She was stumbling a little and his hand knowingly drifted lower, wrapping around her waist to stabilize her. "Ladki... ladki nayi toh... toh kya..." He waited, all the while inching closer to the door now. "Woh na, ek bahut hii ladti... jhagadi... chudail..." That did it and he felt a flicker of satisfaction rush through him like adrenaline as she released herself with force and trudged inside... locking the door. Locking the door! "Ridhima… Ridhima… look…" He banged on the door, hearing nothing but the gentle click of the lock and then her incoherent mumbles. "Ridhima, I'm sorry yaar… woh maina… maine jhoot bola tah…" His voice trailed away as the sounds of her stumbling stopped short. Turning away from the door, his gaze wandered into the blackness of the night. Standing on the open verandah, he leaned in against a frame, looking distantly into the dimly lit sky.
"Ridhimaaa…" he whispered into the air, which carried his voice yonder… The name left his tongue as though a prayer, a heartfelt dua… his dua. A pause instilled in the vacancy and he could still faintly hear the name as the breeze mingled with it, teasing it, caressing it… Giving way to the reminiscent curving of his lips, he continued in a far-off land. "Ridhima… ek ladki hai. Ek aisi ladki joh pehle na kabhi teeh… na phir kabhi hogi. Jiske ek palak jhapakne se, saari duniya aanhein bharti hai… jiske aane ke betaabi mein, waqt bhi kahin tamh sa jaata hai… jiske hone par, Sidhant Modi… duniya ka sabse khushnaseeb hai… aur…" As though catching up with himself, his words drifted and he straightened himself remembering where he was and with whom. Panic-stricken once more and with a tinge of irritation, he turned to drown in her glowing eyes.
Soft pedals of water clung to the ends of her hair, dependent on her for existence… just like him. A thin breeze tickled the edges of her features, chiding his helplessness. She was smiling like a langoor he noticed and laughter ran to find his voice-box, but control served a barrier. As though to confirm his doubts, he found her arms suddenly around his neck, while the coolness of her cheek met the moist warmth of his chest.
"Tum… na… bahut ache ho. Uss, uss khadoos ki tarah… nayi…" Startled into reality, his feet juggled between a safe landing in the realm of dreams and truth as she pulled away so suddenly. "Woh… woh… bilkul … kha… khadoos…" As reality sunk in again, his eyebrows twitched upwards in question, "khadoos?" She nodded furiously, like a child, he thought… amusement tingled across his skin in barely noticeable shivers. "Woh," her finger pointed behind her… somewhere… A cloud of confusion fell upon her face as she struggled solitarily… "Woh… kya naam… sadu… khadoos kahin ka… mera pati…" His eyebrows relaxed and a sliver of pain swept up through his arm, momentarily throwing his world in chaos. Had he heard correctly? Khadoos… she called him a khadoos! His gaze travelled tightly across the dark lawn, suddenly forced to stillness. Ouch. Instinctively, his eyes squinted as his nose while a pocket of unreleased air cradled in his chest. "Tum… tum serious kyun… kyun hogaye…" Hiccups caught up with her at last and he could sense her struggle between holding his nose and her laughter. "Woh… woh toh main… uski… uski baat… kar… rahi thi…" Her fingers blew mercy into his being as they unhooked from his nose. "Woh… khadoos…" The air flowed through him in gulps, blood pulsing to his head impatiently. He was annoyed and his mind was beginning to get foggy again with answerless questions, unheeded feelings, subdued emotions… It amazed him now as he blinked a few times, raking an edgy hand into the depths of his mane, how he was still in one piece. For a brief space in time, he reflected back… the cool-dude, sexy-faced Sid that once lived in him had long vanished… buried under the sands of a ruthless chaos of what people called mohabbat. Did he love her? He didn't know… but over these few months, a void had begun to bore into his existence… and as her feet wandered into the distance, that emptiness would eventually consume the dust that remained… But alas, he never wanted to chain her, he was chained by her.
Chala tha woh apne mehboob ko manane,
Uski khoyi hui musqurahat ko unn khamosh honton se milanay.
Kya pata tah gulabon kii sejh ke neeche sisak rahey teh kaanton ke angaare,
Jal raha tah badan, chooth raha tah khwaabon ka jahan,
Musqurahat uss be-reham kii keemat adah kar raha tah woh deewana lekin,
Qaed thi aakhir uss ek musqurahat mein… mohabbat ki duniya uski.
These lines are copyright by desi chic/india-forums.com. DO NOT COPY/RE-POST ELSEWHERE.
She was giggling again and his skin prickled with agitation. Something was boiling inside him… and he felt unsure of himself. The uncertainty was beginning to worry him as he knew not what it would unleash… One thing was for sure, if the storm inside ever let loose, there was no knowing what it would take under its fury… and where he would be at the end of it. In the midst of this unwonted calculation, he noticed her matted hair… the feeble red of her dress clinging to her tightened skin… the aloofness rampant in her bubbly eyes… the impish flavor ready at the ends of her lips… His eyes took it all in like a desert wanderer revering drops of precious liquid… and then the colour began to raise up his neck… raging to his face. Abruptly aware of his shameless observation, he looked around self-consciously despite knowing no other presence there except for him and… her. Back to her, he decided this was enough and he had to get her inside… now. Judging from the fun that was obvious in her euphoric gestures, he knew she would not budge if he asked her. Without a thought, he approached her quickly and lifted her right arm over his shoulder… and the rest of her too. Bringing her gracefully into his possession, he walked briskly up the stairs, inside the house and up the fleet of stairs to their… his room. All the while, the soft humming and smiles echoed in his senses.
He was exhausted, painfully so. Yet the weight on his shoulders seemed to uplift him, give him a lost strength. It was all clear to him now, the fog of confusion had cleared... Ridhimma belonged with Armaan, the one who was the holder of her heart. Sid toh sirf ek zariya hai, inn do dilon ko ek dusrey kii rah par phir se milaane ka, and he would fulfill that role as a life's mission. The thought rushed through him like fire, burning and rejuvenating... Her happiness was all he sought, whatever the cost.
Stepping into the dimly lit room, he gently placed the dreamy figure on
the softness of the bed. "Mere... dil ka... kehna..." The mumbling
continued indifferently. He towered in front of her, her presence filling his
senses... As his fingers left her skin, he realized it was cold, she needed to
change. But she had taken her clothes away. Creases of nervousness stretched
across his face as he contemplated. Determined, his feet walked him towards the
cupboard from which he retrieved the soft white tunic and pyjamas. A quick scan
over the smooth fabric told him it was miles too big for her petite frame, but
it would have to do. Returning to her side, he paused for a moment. She was
looking up at him, questions layered in her gaze. Averting the attention, he
held the kurta pyjama to her. "Ridhimma, le lo, aur jaa ke change kar
lo... warna thand lag jaayegi." He deliberately firmed his tone, aware of her
shifting layers. The air suddenly went silent... Her focus was now on the white
that he offered her... the familiar vibrancy in her shining orbs paled,
blankness taking over. Something inside him twitched and he felt
self-conscious. And then it happened. Her loud, bubbly laughter broke the
silence of the space, stirring the night alive.
A moment passed as he wondered at the chords of her happiness... the
pitch, the tempo, the entire scale... As her finger centred at his nose, he
realized that she had absorbed him, again. Instinctively, his right hand
wandered to the back of his head where his fingers smoothed out unseen
wrinkles. With pouted lips, he looked around and then back at her... his
expression bemused and innocent. The laughter had subsided into giggles
which she tried to contain under her hand, fruitlessly. "Yeh... main... yeh..."
she was pointing at him again, the silence flew away with the tingling of her
giggles. It dawned on him then, that there wasn't anything on his face... she
was laughing at his offering. He was thankful of the pale light as the rouge
extended across his face once more.
"Ridhima, tum... tumhe ye pehne padenge, mere paas aur koi kapde nahin hain. Aur tum, tum toh legayi teeh na apne kapde... loh," he gently thrust the white into her startled hands. He watched annoyed as they slipped through her grasp like sand. She shook her head, the dark layers of her hair following her movements, intensifying her disagreement. "Nahin... mujhe nahin pehna," a frown encased her lips and he felt something twist in his stomach. "Yeh... yeh toh giant... giant jitney badey hain..." she dipped down and picked up the kurta, speculating it in her clumsy hands. "Tumhe pehna padega," he stated firmly. "Nahin," her lips puckered and she turned her face to the side, averting his gaze affectively. Nakhre, he thought impatiently. Inhaling deeply, he leaned forward, adjusting himself next to her on the floor. Gingerly, his hands found the coolness of hers... encasing them in his warmth. The gesture was voluntary, and he had no intentions for letting the moment linger... but it did. Lifting one hand to her face he gently placed the rebellious tresses that had defied the command of her fingers away from her eyes. With the other, he continued to hold her hand safely, securely, assuringly. Slowly, but surely, her attention shifted towards him. He knew she was not going to give in, but it was also critical that she change. He had downed her with the green snake much longer than she had the strength and he noticed that despite her stubbornness, shivers travelled easily across her enclosed frame. Sighing deeply, he sat contemplating. A tensing thought inched closer to him as his gaze fell upon hers in such density that the earth beneath seemed not there. The physician within him knew what he had to do... what he had done so many months ago under the frenzy of a love-torn night. It was a critical decision with incomprehensible ramifications, something he learnt later. And here again, the situation was beckoning Dr. Siddhant Modi to take action. Yet as the mirrors of her shining orbs reflected, Dr. Modi was but a memory in the presence of Sid, the man who sat before her thus, utterly at her disposal. All she had to do was ask...
Instead, he got up,
leaving her with faced creased in confusion and walked towards the bay window.
For a pause in time, his attention lingered on the circular figure sitting way
up in the universal roof. It was poornamashi
today, and the chaand was glowing
shamelessly... the ends of his roshni
cascaded sneakily across the shadowy space. A glint of unknown envy frayed at
the ends of his conscience and the roshni
was cut off with a curt movement of his fingers as they slid the drape across
the long glass.
Instantly, the room
fell silent... the gentle moans of her intoxicated presence were sliced through
with a nerving silence.
"Sid... Siddhant..." her hazy voice penetrated the invisible bubble that suddenly seemed to carry them away from the rest of all existence. Her voice did not express any fear, rather, an innocent knowing. His heart shivered somewhere deep in his chest as his steps took him closer to her, eventually stopping a breath away. They weren't touching, yet he could feel the unseen thread holding them closer than perhaps they had ever been. Bubbles of doubt formed in beads of perspiration at the fringes of his forehead, yet greater than them was the understanding of what the moment required. With deceptively steady hands, he reached out for her shadowy figure, his hands hesitatingly finding her arm. Taking in a long, steady breath, he inhaled for a second longer, holding the air in his lungs as if there was no tomorrow. When he exhaled, the atmosphere shifted and he realized that despite the darkness, her eyes were speaking to his...
dc
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