Chapter 12: Mera chand mujhe aaya hai nazar...
It was late afternoon when he arrived home after a nine hour flight without a wink of sleep for close to thirty hours. He was famished, hungry and irritable. He knew the house would be empty as his sister, grandma and his brother-in-law would be visiting their ancestral home. On any other day an empty house would be his beloved haven but the long journey made him wish to talk to his sister.
"I am home," he whispered softly as he walked inside the house after the door was opened by one of his staff member who mumbled a stale 'welcome home, sir'.
The fey sense of restlessness which had enveloped him the moment he had stepped out of the office few days ago came back tenfold and obtruded upon his senses. The made up rationalization for the string of events had drilled down to the sharpest conclusion he had ever arrived in his life. The death of his parents was a certainty he had accepted for more than two decades yet the void they left behind almost made him a voyeur whenever he saw a happy family of four.
As he passed his parents' life size painting hung on the wall for them to watch over the legacy they had left behind, he noticed that his mother's expression had turned a little smug. He stood in front of them and raised an eyebrow at the reflection of his mother he thought he saw.
"In love, are we?" He heard her ask and his father chuckle. Rationality advised him that the paintings weren't talking but it was his mind playing silly tricks. Was it loneliness or simple obtuse and obnoxious expectation of mother figure which made him shove the rational answer from a cliff and embrace the notorious fantasy one? He didn't know and for once, he didn't care.
"Why do you say that?" He asked sitting on stairs, his back on railings. He cocked his head to his left as it rested on the smooth curve of railing giving him a long side view of the painting.
"Oh please," his mother huffed. "I can smell love a mile away," she mocked.
"Is this what it is?" He asked resting his elbow on his knees and supported his chin at the base of his palm. His stature was incredibly innocent - as if a little boy was learning his first ever lesson in life.
"It could be that or severe jet lag," his father's deep baritone commented before his mother could respond. The laughter that followed made him chuckle at the older man, a reflection of Arnav himself.
"Don't listen to this man beta. I think you are in love that girl from office," she said in a conspiratorial whisper.
"How do you know that?" He asked the same question again. Before his mother could respond, he added, "And please don't give me wooly answers of 'I know' or any other long winded emotional drivel." He rubbed his tired face with the hand that was supporting his chin and mutely wondered if it was love or sheer psychosis that needed urgent medical attention.
"Arnav," he heard his mother say. He looked up to see her looking at him with an expression he had never seen on a woman before. Is that how mothers looked at their sons with all the unconditional love and affection that only they could muster? A pang of anguish pummeled to his stomach when it struck him that it never happened to him in real.
"Love is a million things and love is nothing. It can be the first gasp of air a drowning man takes after being under water for several minutes. It's in the gentleness of the moment when a mother hears the first heartbeat of her baby. It's in his relinquish when a man rips of his heart by letting his lover go to the one she loves. It's in the first tremor in your fingertips when your hands brush against hers and you realize that it's going to happen for the rest of your life." At the last part, she threaded her fingers' with her husband's - Arnav's father and the two smiled without looking at each other. "It's in growing old, sharing towels, raising kids, stealing kisses behind grown up children's back, holding hands when first grandchild arrives, dying knowing that there is someone waiting for you on the other side." The timber in her voice eased the tension between his eyebrows. The setting sun brought a whisper of wind inside the house and carried the fragrance of the flowers he dearly grew.
"Love is you and her - the dynamics, the chemistry, the words, the story, the poetry, the cinema, the tragedy and the love story, the comedy and the drama, the music that you create, the orchestra that you perform, the dance that you celebrate and in a nut shell - the life that you lead." His father added. "I don't know what love is. But I believe that it looks a lot like your mother," he said.
"Does it answer your question?" His mother asked noting his silence.
Arnav simply smiled.
"I will take a shower and go to office for few hours," he said standing up.
"It's a Saturday beta, she won't be there," his father said gently.
"I think you are wrong dad," he said noting the surprise on his parents' faces. "I think she will be there," he said and waved a goodbye.
He whistled an upbeat song that Lavanya played in car while he showered and dressed. While climbing down the stairs, he blew a kiss at his parents' painting fully embracing the fantasy meeting he had had with them an hour before. They were always alive in his heart and that was his life's biggest dogma.
He didn't know what he would say when he met her. He didn't know what would happen after he met her. He didn't know what he was expecting out of the meeting he believed it was going to happen.
For now, all he wanted was to see her.
****
Disappointment slashed his stomach when he saw her empty seat.
'I was sure...so sure...' his heart hammered in his chest and this vision swam. The wretched claws of disappointment quavered the fleet of emotions that he had held in check since the moment of actualization of his feelings. He gasped for a breath as his lungs taciturnly opposed at the idea of hopes been shoved inside in great speed. He crouched when the exhaustion, lack of food and the bleak emptiness of the cubicle resonated with her absence doubled him over. After several deep breaths he slowly opened his eyes and supporting his entire upper body weight on his knees, he lifted himself up.
And then he saw. Her bag fallen on the cubicle floor orphaned without its mistress.
He felt it then. The joy of listening to the first heartbeat of one's child, the relief felt when a fresh lungful of air after fighting lack of oxygen, the freshness when first sip of cool water after playing cricket for several hours in hot sun, happiness that warmed one's heart when an evening is spent with best friends, the trust when one readily took the hand offered to them during mountain climbing over ravines, the affection when a young girl pushes an extra straw in a bottle of coke and shares it with the guy she has a crush on and the feeling of contentment that only her company offered him. The last one was just her and only her.
It wasn't one feeling that comprised of what he felt for her. The complexity of all had reduced to a singularity where entropy didn't exist and it was simple in its offering.
"Arnav," he heard her call out to him her voice heavy with surprise.
"Khushi," he said dropping the bag on table and slowly turning around.
The sight he met with summarized every obscure emotion he had felt in past few days. She stood in front of him in simple and plain clothes, her hair open and unadorned with the ornaments she often associated herself with. When she took a step further, her earrings didn't dance errant or bangles noisily proclaimed her presence. There were no shining trimmings on her dress which outlined her stature. The area between her eyebrows were bare and her eyes natural.
She was stripped off everything materialistic she associated herself with and was standing in front of him with veil fluttering when her fingers twisted and turned the edges.
She had taken a step but had hesitated to continue further as if she had to rein her heart in taking a decision which could irrevocably damage their relationship. He waited for her to say something, anything but was met with silence.
She reciprocated his small smile and saw her shoulders relax. The relief that ran on her face left a residue of smile behind which slowly morphed into joy. He broke through all layers of barricade he had himself surrounded with and in seven long steps, he was only a foot away from her.
He searched her face for hesitation and her eyes for indignity. When he found none, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her to him. She held on to him in equal urgency as he held on to her tightly. She rested her head at the crook of his neck and breathed in slowly.
"I missed you," she said in a hollow whisper. He closed his eyes at her words. The warmth that spread his heart eased the bottled up anxiety as he hugged her closer.
"I missed you so much," he breathed into her ears. It earned him a laugh as his breath tickled her and the sound of her laugh washed away the small fear of rejection that had made room in the corner of his heart.
He lifted her feet and twirled her around making her laugh louder. Their combined laugh ripped apart the silence of the office and the tiny light that shined above her cubicle witnessed the moment of pure joy.
'Love is you and I,
together; us.' He finally concluded.
To be continued.
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