Posted:
ermm..okay..i am aware that my fantasies just grow more and more outrageous day and by day and a lot of them are really not that applicable in a TV show..😆 at the same time, thanks a lot to all those people who have stuck by me and continued pressing the like button even though i'm not that good really. 😆😳
alsooo...ermm, please please don't copy my fantasy ideas..not that anyone has done it yet, but i'm a very paranoid person..so have some daya on this mantally sick gwurl 😆
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Maanvi the Comforter
Yeah yeah, keep me hungry. I couldn't care less for your customized family dinners anyway, thought Virat miserably as he stared at the ceiling, something that was now more of a profession and less of a daily past time.
Virat was aware that by holing himself up in his bedroom, he wasn't exactly qualifying for The Most Mature Man ever. This was something Shlok should be doing, and not him, but it was vice versa. Not that it was the least of his problems. Apparently, according to his grandfather, he was a good-for-nothing loafer who deserved to be humiliated in front of his newly-wedded sister-in-law too. He could have waited at least a week before showing our family's true colors to poor bhabhi, he grumbled mentally.
When Virat had been a schoolboy, everyone had envied him. After all, the Vadheras were one of the richest and most elite families in Chandigarh. But soon Virat had realised that it was better that only his classmates thought that way. In his family, there seemed to be a continuous race to achieve success and adulation, but with one motto: follow the rules. And Virat's rebellious nature would never allow him to escape being the black sheep of the family.
He turned around and slammed his fist into his pillow. He was bored, and he needed entertainment. Obviously, this wasn't New York, so he couldn't really run off with one of his foreign girlfriends. He would have to do with Ms. Desi Chic. Virat could almost feel his frown disappearing as he took out his cellphone and punched in Maanvi's number.
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Tring Tring. Tring Tring. 'What the hell??' mumbled Maanvi, nearly tumbling out of her bed. She rubbed her eyes and yawned as she looked at the phone's screen. Virat.
'Oh god,' she moaned, as she grudgingly answered. 'Hello Meri Bandariya,' he drawled, his voice creeping over some kind of annoying insect. 'Kya hai?' she snapped. 'I was sleeping.'
'Ohkay..I see...at eight-thirty in the night you go to sleep. Interesting. Kaunsa pahad todne jaana hai kal?'
Maanvi yawned again. So Madam has oxygen deficiency while talking to me, Virat thought, smirking. Trust him to make even Desi Girl feel breathless.
'I'm just...I'm just tired nowadays,' she muttered into the phone, wishing she could collapse under her blanket again.
Virat frowned. 'Maanvi...are you..'
'No, no no,' she said hastily, suddenly realizing that she was treading on shaky ground. 'It's just that earlier Jeevika and I did all the work, but now it's just me..so double load.'
'Aha,' he said, grinning, though his heart still told him that something was wrong. 'So now Ms. Sherni is Ms. Ghar ki Gaay...how interesting.'
'What?' she spluttered.
He sighed. 'Whatever. Anyway...can you talk to this Chep for five minutes?'
'Okay,' she said, still feeling annoyed that he had interrupted her sleep. 'Talk fast...so that five minutes will get over quickly.'
Somehow, her blatant unwillingness to talk to him pulled at Virat's heartstrings.
'Nothing,' he said, scowling, 'I...I just had an argument with Dadaji.'
'Hmmm...wait a minute..you and Hitler had a fight? About what?'
'Don't call him Hitler,' said Virat defensively. 'My grandad is a big old bore, but he's not a Nazi for goodness' sake.'
'Okay okay,' she said, rolling her eyes, 'so why did you and 'big old bore' have an argument?'
'Because...well because I just lie around the home everyday and I don't do much.'
'I see,' she said. 'That's really unfair of him you know. I mean, to scold an utterly useless and good-for-nothing person like you is such a crime,' she said sarcastically.
'Okay, okay, I get it,' Virat said, his temper flaring up. 'But at the same time, you have no right to judge me okay? You don't even know what I go through every single moment of my life!'
Maanvi was temporarily taken aback. Why was he being so touchy? She'd already got a sample of an angry Virat Vadhera at the mehendi, when he had sung along with her. And now this. It occured to her at that moment that perhaps Virat had a lot of angst built up inside him. At the same time, she felt a sudden cavity in her chest where her heart had been as she listened to him scream at her.
'Fine,' she said sullenly, 'be angry at me okay? First you disturb me when I'm sleeping, and now you shout at me...'
Virat sighed. There was no point fighting like a child. And anyway, if she really was ill and was hiding it from him for some stupid reason, he couldn't upset her, or her health might worsen.
'Sorry Maanvi,' he said, slapping his hand on his forehead. 'I..I'm just frustrated. Maanvi, look, I'm a very short-tempered guy, though I don't show it. And it's not that I enjoy not doing anything the whole day...it's just that I can't be like Viren bhai or Dadaji. I'm not the perfect Vadhera. I'm messy and disorganized. My room is more cluttered than my life. I cannot schedule what I do everyday. The only talent I have is music...and even that, well it's gone now. You're right, I am a good-for-nothing. But Maanvi, all I want is for someone to understand me. Maanvi, I'm not a bad person. I have no way of showing this to you, but trust me Maanvi..I'm not a bad person.'
'Hey,' she said softly, letting go of her anger. There was a new emotion rising up within her now. Womanhood. As she listened to him rant on the phone, Maanvi understood, and knew what Virat needed. It wasn't a job, or a planner, or even a shrink, though he was depressed enough to go to one. He just needed a hug, and someone to tell him that everything would be alright.
There was silence on the phone. Virat lay still, feeling ashamed of himself for having told her so much. How had he revealed so much about himself, that too to Maanvi Choudhary of all people? How did he know that she was trustworthy enough not to tell this to Jeevika Bhabhi or anyone else? But Maanvi just didn't occur to him as the type of person to gossip, the way his Swamini Bua or Chachi would. And she wasn't really the type who would denounce him as 'weird' and walk away either. She was a holder-on, someone who never let go. Virat wondered whether she was regretting their friendship anyway.
Maanvi had a brief flash of a memory of her childhood. It was after she and her Jeevika di had immersed their mother's ashes and come to live with Beeji. Maanvi had been having a horrible time. In Delhi, no one had asked her to clean her own room or do any chores. For the first time she was being forced to do work, and she didn't like it one bit. Not to mention that she messed up whatever she did, and immediately got scolded by Beeji. She was down in the dumps, and at that moment her Jeevika di had comforted her and told her, that eventually she would get the hang of things, but that did not mean that she would be hated till then. She still couldn't make a paratha without help, but now she knew how much her family loved her.
'Listen Virat, I know that sometimes, when a difficult situation arises, you find it hard to do things properly, which everyone around you can do well. But you shouldn't interpret their annoyance as hate. Dadaji may be wrong in being so rude to you, but at the same time, he just doesn't want you to hug the same bush of thorns to yourself for the rest of your life. He wants you to move on, and that is exactly what you need to do.'
'But it's too difficult,' he whispered, his eyes glistening with unexpected tears.
'I know it is,' she said, almost hiccuping as she found her old pain and sorrow wallowing up inside her again. 'But you need to find something to hold on to. Just like a comforter a child may cling to for sleep,' she said, gulping down the lump in her throat and enforcing a brave tone into her voice.
Virat closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Something to hold onto. He suddenly visualized Maanvi, lying in his arms, her head tilted towards him. He wished he could enfold her and kiss her on the lips, holding her so tightly, and so near to him, that it would be impossible for her to go away. He remembered how he used to wail when he was a kid and Vanshika had tried taking his favourite blanket away from him, because he was beginning to outgrow it. He had been ready to shiver due to the cold when he slept, but not discard the blanket. It was now lying somewhere in his attic, abandoned. But no one could succeed in taking a living, breathing person away.
Both ashamed and frightened by the need that had suddenly risen in him, he whispered, 'Thanks.'
'Mention not,' she said, as she found her eyes grow heavy. 'Okay Bandar, I'm really sorry, but I need to sleep. You've ended up spending more than than five minutes anyway. We'll talk later, okay?'
He nodded his head as she said 'Good night' and hung up. He put his cellphone by his bed and turned around, his eyes now deciding to stare at the wall instead of the ceiling. Funny how she's younger than me, and yet she's more mature. Definitely not the kid I'd always thought her to be, he thought, mildly amused. He felt ten times lighter now that all his negative energy seemed to have been expended.
The door suddenly creaked open. Virat turned around and watched wordlessly as Viren quietly put a plate of food on his study table, and winked at his younger brother, putting his finger on his lips. Virat stifled his laugh. It was almost as if they were five and seven years old again. Viren then closed the door as softly as possible. Virat waited for the sound of his footsteps to recede before attacking the food.
And intelligent too. Maybe I should talk to her more often, he mused as he wolfed down his dinner.
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