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Author's Note
Please pardon the length and the grammatical errors, whatsoever. Thanks, drop in your two cents!
Thank you, Ishita for making the PMs. 😃
Kankshita
Author's Note
Samrat and Gunjan: Apology
Otherwise, the corridor was always lighted. Today, through remote niches, sunshine cascaded and it was painted ivory. Ivory-clad beams of sun light had also started diminishing and roughly three dozens of people had enveloped us. I was to enact something I have, and I shall be denuded of. I was supposed to serve as the heroine of a luscious apology being delivered by the hero.
The surface whereupon I walk is crisp and crusted hard and my spirit is not withering anymore. He has bestowed me with courage to walk by myself. He has chanted a spell on me. Samrat is my best friend, he was the hero of that scene and I fear to take up the institution of his always-heroic aura, I am scared to admit that in so many ways, he really is my hero, the alpha male of my life. I might consider never being interested and or oblique tempted by the entire heroic fundamental, I just fell in love.
He stood so close to me, yet he could not hear my thumping heart, or maybe he did and he figured out it was my job; I was acting, after all. For once, I did not fear the eyes that were going to reckon my performance, the eyes of three dozen people. My famous stage fright had involuntarily found an obscure niche for itself somewhere underneath my epidermis. All I did fear was that one moment when the scene would wrap up, and my volatile characteristics originally possessed by Jahnvi would refuse to abide with their nature, with the ultimate law of my life – Samrat shouldn't know I am in love with him.
I feared my tears would drench the dress I was wearing, and that I would not be able to bite them back. What was I going to do with the monstrous lump in my throat when the lights would shine right on my pale face, when my best friend would expect me to beckon to him and tell him he was brilliant? Would I be able to abstain on my sinisterly empathic connection with Jahnvi?
Anyway, he initiated the scene.
Those words of apology were cutting through my eardrums. He may have shattered my every endeavor that Rose Day, he may even have neglected my every notion of unhappiness, when I was devastated and flinching in pain because of him, but I was not ever going to overlook his endowments to me. I don't mean everything to him, but I mean many things to him that is why the apology never made sense to me, never will.
Mujhe yaad hai, jis din tumse pehli baar mila tha, usi din pyaar se meri pehli mulaqat hui thi. Wo hulchul, wo ehsaas, wo pal; tumse judi har baat Mujhe yaad hai.
I fidgeted with the script in my hands as he spoke this to me. My eyes wandered out of consciousness as the same fear had trapped me in its very shackles, I wasn't losing myself here. I could not afford that.
Aur ek din sab thukra ke, main tumse dur chala gaya.
As a matter of fact, Samrat never did leave me. He is sublimely the quaintest element of my life, being around him is as much joy as pain it is. It is as much friendship as enmity it is. It is indeed him or nothing, nobody else. He never left me, it was just Rahul, and I sighed in relief on the inside and prepared for the delivery of my dialogue.
Main kaise nahi samajh paya ki wo pyaar hai? Mujhe maaf kardo. Maine tumhara dil bahut dukhaya hai.
I would not lie, I am hurt. In fact, it hurts like dissecting my interior with daggers differently, most defiantly every day but I calculate that I cannot be certain about any romantic feelings in his heart harboring for me. He loves me, I think so. He does not love me enough, I know so.
Tumhe maafi maangne ki koi zarurat nahi hai.
I fumbled in the beginning.
Kaise zarurat nahi hai? Har baar meri galatiyoon ko bhula dena, tumhari yehi baat toh Mujhe aur bhi sharminda kardeti hai. Itna pyaar karti ho mujhse, tum har baar Mujhe kaise maaf kar sakti ho?
In my knowledge, he never made a mistake. Yes, I love him. But what mistake did he make? I was apteral then, maybe it was just Rahul again, but I was forced into considering the idea of forgiving Samrat for rejecting me, at any point in his life. I am wholly saturated, what could cause more agony, which was the question, still is. I could not decipher forgiveness but I know; I love him enough to forgive him for rejecting me, even pushing me off a bridge.
I do not correctly remember my dialogue that followed. Ironically, it left the deepest impression on me. I said that I never weighed issues and situations before falling in love with him. I always believed that if they are our true love, they'd come back to us somehow, anyhow. But we will have to set them free; love was never about caging to Jahnvi. Love is not about caging to me, or even expressing if I can cover it up in a case such as this.
From being able to look square in his eyes to lowering my eyes and disorienting my spectacles again, I was soaked in the waters of the substance, the substance of painful love. Jahnvi was nearing a happy ending, but I never quite made it to the beginning to have a blissful wrap up in the first place. Yes, I wait for him but I do not understand why. Yes, I do not expect him to love me back, but the hope, it just never fades away. It is unnerving.
Tumse dur jaane par hi tumhare paas rehne ka ehsaas hua hai Jahnvi, main janta hun tum mujhse bahut pyaar karti thi, karti ho, karti rahogi. Main jaanta hun aur aaj main tumse ye vaada karta hun ki mera dil humesha tumhara rahega, tum chaaho toh is dil ko thukra sakti ho kyunki main jaanta hun ki maine aisi galati ki hai jo maafi ke layak nahi hai.
Was it really his fault? Would he ever really be mine?
Tears were wedged in my eyes; they were looking for a passage to escape. Samrat never realized what my plight was, Sheena stood at our extreme right wearing and edgy expression, and they were clearly watching Jahnvi soar heights. I'm glad, nobody really acknowledged Gunjan's presence, I am relieved nobody noticed my tears were for real, my sobs were not dramatic and just by some chance, the hero managed to warm the cockles of my heart even as he was a substance that served to my ailment, my pains and my emotion, I was really in love with him, the amateur lover, my best friend.
Mirth engulfs me still when he is by my side; I am always mirthful with him. I recollected my days of mirth and ignorance, when I used to look past my feelings for him, when I could manage to look beyond them. Today, as I sit down on my bed at the time I generally relax after hectic lectures, my pain seems to lessen by no chance, and there is no scope either. Because indeed, my emotion overpowers my senses, disturbs my schedule and perturbs me more every minute.
I could imagine his bewitching smile, I could see the moments he did showcase it to me. I could see us both happy and I could feel the happiness in me for a while. I realized there is nothing more soothing than his comforting and shining smile. I realized my existence alone meant nothing, his was integral and that I am swathed in this for life. Soon, I transformed into Jahnvi again.
I fell in love with him without asking his permission, then how was it his mistake, I explained to him how it was entirely my fault and I was authoritative toward the apology, after all. My criterion wasn't ever to fall in love but I did, it was my fault. I was never supposed to believe his smile was entitled to me, or his words were. I was incorrect if I inconspicuously continued to borrow some of Dee's antiques from her and live a dream which had him and me, very much together. I was sorry.
He trailed closer to me, wiped off my tears and I stared at my feet, my trembling feet.
Sirf ek baar, sirf ek baar kehdo ke tum mere bina jee nahi sakti. Sirf ek baar apne chehre pe wo pyaar ki jhalak dikha do, sirf ek baar humare pyaar ko ek mauka de do. Haan, main tumse pyaar karta hun, bahut pyaar.
Hence, my feet stuck to the floor, his words supplied adhesive and it just glued me to the surface. In that moment, within than proximity and beneath our masks of the characters we played, I wished the same emotion hailed, the same love grew and we were in that together. It was another endeavor he was going to crush under his feet, for he was just acting, I knew. I knew, I couldn't act though, I couldn't respond for a while.
It was best if Jahnvi left the premise, which was written in the script, I just followed. I knew he was going to clutch my hand, make me bereft of my senses and embrace me. I knew who I was in that atmosphere, and who he was but I never stopped hoping, last time I checked. I like a bundle of matchsticks that just dismantled; he was putting them together, compiling them. And on my inside, I had sensations of healing, he was fixing my broken pieces, my jagged pieces were falling all into place. But I did not reciprocate to him, in fact I could not have even if I decided to, his grip on me was strong, one I could not have been able to break. And my hands fell in agreement with my responsibility to not hug Samrat back.
Decent applauses roared to life and he instantly left me. Sheena stood like a wall of glass between us, again. A wall I could see through, I could exactly see what the other side could offer me. I could consider shoving the barrier out of my way and conquer, but maybe I was not the right substance for that, and I was back to that feeling. I received appreciation; I had done my job well. I had to cover my unleashed wounds before Samrat finally approached me.
I excused myself and did not look back.
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