A New Beginning, A Reason For Living

Dark clouds had been ruling the sky all day, looking unrelenting as ever even as the night approached. Sameer rang the doorbell, brushing the glistening drops of rain off his black jacket, standing outside his home.

He shook his head as he recalled that his sister, Shruti, wouldn't be home that night, not till the wee hours at least. Fumbling within his bag, he managed to retrieve a bunch of keys.

The door clicked open softly as he slipped in the key and turned the knob, letting himself inside, quickly shutting the door behind him. The hallway was dimly lit. He shivered a little as a draft of warm air hit his handsome face. The radiator had been left on. He rolled his eyes, inwardly blaming Shruti.

A strong whiff of baking caught him by surprise. Sniffing appreciatively, he made his way to the kitchen, taking off his damp jacket.

“You said you’d not be home before 8! What are you doing here at 7?” hearing Aaina’s voice, he turned around so fast that he nearly gave himself a crick in the neck.

“I was supposed to pick you up for dinner from your home. What are you doing here at all?” he asked, amazed, as she walked up to him.

Standing on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him. He kissed her back, slowly and gently, but intensely, tightly embracing her. She pulled away several seconds later to take a good look at him.

“The meeting ended earlier than we had anticipated. So, here I am.” Sameer answered her earlier question, his eyes roving over her face, gauging how she was, without actually asking the question.

Aaina was in a knee-length, velvet midnight-blue dress that shimmered with the slightest movement she made, accentuating her dark eyes and creamy skin.

“You love home-cooked meals. So, I took the day off. Shruti had plans with her friends, and gave me the keys willingly. So, here I am.” she smiled, looking into his gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes, stroking his jet-black hair.

He leaned in and kissed her again as she wiped off a stray water droplet on his neck.

“I missed you, too.” she breathed against his lips, replying to his unspoken feeling.

He smiled and nodded. It had been two weeks since they had last met.

“Why aren’t you wearing any shoes?” Sameer questioned, incredulous, as he noticed her walk barefoot into the kitchen.

“I was getting ready when I heard you waltz in. So, I thought ‘fuck the shoes’ and came out to meet you. Besides, the central heating is on.” she chuckled, pointing toward one of the vents.

Sameer laughed as he followed her.

“Go freshen up. Don’t follow me around like a lost puppy.” she chided him playfully.

“But, I love to watch you cook.” he complained, following her nevertheless.

“I’ve done all the cooking, and the baking. I just need to frost the cake.” she told him, maneuvering her way around him to and from the fridge.

Completely engrossed in decorating her precious cake, she looked extra charming. When he was assured that she wouldn’t need anything else, he snaked his arms around her waist, resting his chin at the base of her neck. Her soft brown hair had a lingering sweet scent to it.

She felt him plant a chaste kiss on her hair. She smiled and smeared a blob of buttercream icing on his nose.

“I don’t care.” he chuckled, snuggling closer.

“Noooooooo!” she squealed, getting away just in time before he could transfer the frosting from his nose onto her neck and hair.

“Go, get cleaned.” she said, pushing him out of the kitchen.

“And, you get some footwear on.” he said, grabbing her hand, dragging her along.

She pecked on his cheek before almost pushing him into the bathroom.

“Hey! Don’t change into your pajamas!” she yelled from outside after wearing her white fuzzy bunny slippers.

“What? Why?” he asked, poking his head out as he half opened the door.

“I don’t want my dinner date to be in his PJs.” she rolled her eyes and glided out of his room.

It was nearly 8 pm when Sameer turned up at the dining table where Aaina was setting the table for dinner. He was in a jet black tuxedo, tailored to perfection.

“Finally. I thought you had fainted in there, or something.” she joked.

“Haha.” he said, sarcastic.

“I know, right?” she laughed, anyway, “You look delectable, by the way.” she said, pulling him by his neck-tie.

“Wow! Now that’s a compliment you don’t get every day.” he laughed, kissing her.

“How was your day?” she asked, getting back to laying the table.

“The usual. Mad clients, stupid colleagues, ignorant boss.” he answered, helping her.

“And, sane, sensible, know-it-all you.” she snorted.

“Of course.” he chuckled, “How was yours?”

“Oh, I slept till noon knowing I had to toil away in the evening,” she snickered, “then I came here.”

“So when you were chatting with me at lunch, it was from here?”

“Guilty as charged.” she grinned, displaying a set of perfect white teeth.

“You’re amazing, you know.” he said, as they both sat down for dinner.

“I know. Thanks, anyway.” she laughed, again.

He gazed at her cheerful face. She was the one who had brought fun, laughter, happiness, and life back to his life.

“Look, your favorite.” she said, taking off the lid of a small white casserole, revealing baked bell peppers and tomatoes.

He looked at her face,

“You really do hate me, right?”

“What happened, sweetie? Something wrong?” she looked radiant, and extremely serious.

“You deserve an Oscar.” he said rolling his eyes, snatching the lid from her hands, and re-placing it on the bowl.

Sameer, in fact, hated bell peppers and tomatoes to the core. Aaina knew this, and she wasn’t someone who’d pass an opportunity to play a prank.

Aaina cracked up at his comment, laughing uncontrollably. He watched her for a while before joining in.

“Oh, God! Your expression was worth it, Sameer!” she said, in between laughs, dabbing the tears at the corner of her eyes with the table napkin.

"Yeah, yeah." he muttered.

“Everything else is your favorite, I promise.” she smiled, air-kissing him.

“And, what about your favorite?”

“You. Delectable, remember?” she retorted, as she began loading up his plate with food.

                                                    * * * * *

“Are you sure you wanna watch this? You don’t even like this movie.” Sameer asked as they settled on the couch before his giant LED tv.

After a long dinner of inconsequential talks and sumptuous food, they had gone out for a stroll after changing into more comfortable clothing. It was 10:30 pm when they had finally returned.

“I don’t wanna watch, actually. I just wanna snuggle.” she told him, cuddling closer to his seated form, as he draped a blanket over both of them.

Just thirty minutes into the movie, he felt Aaina’s breathing slow down and even out. She inched closer still, as she went deeper into blissful slumber.

Sameer kissed the top of her head, lowered the volume, and watched on for a while, sighing happily. A little later, he too felt drowsiness overpowering him. Carefully scooping up his sleeping girlfriend in his arms so as to not wake her up, he went to his bedroom. Ever so gently, he laid her down on the bed, covered her with the duvet, and slipping in beside her, he hugged her close to himself. Soon he was fast asleep.

He felt her stir after what seemed only moments to him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked groggily.

Aaina had woken up as if on cue. Hundreds and thousands of fireworks echoed, one after the other, each one momentarily lighting up the midnight sky.

“Oh, look!" she said, signaling toward his spherical LED alarm clock.

It displayed 12:00 in a soft cyan color.

"Happy 2014, sleepyhead!” she wrapped her arms around him, giving him a warm and tender kiss.

“To you, too, love.” he whispered, huskily.

            * * * * *

Bidaayi

Pari's laughter rang through the beauty parlor as she got ready for her wedding. She was excited, scared, happy, and sad, all at the same time. The dreams of her new future were coupled with an increasingly stronger realization about how it would change her reality.

"Ma'am, someone is here to see you." Pari was informed by an attendant.

"Who is it?" she turned around, curious.

What happened next was something nobody in their wildest dreams had imagined. A seemingly well-to-do guy entered the scene, smiled at Pari, and doused her with an immeasurable amount of toxic acid; all in a quick succession.

The parlor now rang with her shrieks and screams of others around her. Nobody dared to catch the culprit; perhaps, they were frozen with shock. She cried, and writhed in pain as the ambulance and police were called.

* * * * *

A newsflash revealed that the cops had found a letter left behind by the accused. According to the letter, Pari had been in a relation with the him, and had broken up with him to marry someone else. Heartbroken and infuriated, he had decided this deed would be the best revenge.

This revelation set tongues wagging.

"Children these days have no values, no culture. Making boyfriends and girlfriends and indulging in whatnot. Tsk-tsk. What is our dear country coming to!"

"If my daughter had done this, I would have poured acid on her myself. And, then on that guy, too."

"She has brought shame to her family, and deserves this."

"Her family members can't show their faces to anyone; now she can't, either. Justice has been served."

Another news update a mere day later brought something else to light.

The accused was not Pari's former boyfriend; rather, he was the accomplice of the ex-wife of the elder brother of Pari's husband-to-be. She had already made two attempts before to harm her ex-husband's family, but they had been foiled. By what logic she had targeted Pari was unfathomable.

Pari was shifted from the local hospital to a super-speciality hospital in a metro city. She was in extreme pain. Although she was stable, she was also critical. She had expressed her wish to talk to her fiance. He had, however, along with his family, shirked off all responsibility, and severed all ties with the her and her family.

She, now, was not only gravely physically hurt, but also emotionally wounded. She could not decide which suffereing was greater. She lost consciousness several days later, finally succumbing to the injuries after twenty days of the ordeal.

"We were ready for her bidaayi, but not of this sort. We had been preparing for her wedding, and now we are preparing for her funeral."

In loving memory of Harpreet, the acid-attack victim from Ludhiana, who passed away on 27 December, 2013. Rest in peace.

On My Way to a Better Place

He had watched her dead body being taken away. His throat was sore from crying all through the previous night. Tonight, only silent tears fell from his big, brown, sad eyes.

He wondered why anyone would, how anyone could hurt a girl like her. She had never harmed anyone; no, quite the opposite, in fact. She had always done everything in her power to make others happy.

The neighbors had offered their sympathy and expressed their inability to understand the atrocity. But, that was it. They did not feel the emptiness, the loss, that he felt. Obviously. They had never known her the way he had.

He had heard from the cops that she was killed in what seemed to be a racist, cold-blooded murder. There was no other motive. And, having been born and raised in Australia, he knew what exactly it meant. That girl was not a native Australian.

So what? He himself was an Australian; he had never felt the urge to torment her. She was a gentle creature, better than many Australians. She had loved him and cared for him when no Australian had ever bothered about him.

He felt his heart break as he thought about her; the memories of the moments they had shared, the time they had spent together...

Fresh tears streamed down his face contorted with pain. Those cruel people had snatched her from him. She had been most gruesomely murdered- stabbed with a butcher's knife, eleven times, all over her delicate body; each stab deep enough to rip up her internal organs.

Sharp, pointed things had always scared her. She never could bear any pain- her own or of others. She was like a child whose heart brims with innocence, compassion and love.

He shivered and shuddered, wondering how much suffering those monsters had caused her, and found himself frantically hoping that she died the very first moment the damned knife had slashed her body, making her oblivious to the rest of the torture.

He let out a heart-rending wail that pierced the deathlike still and silent, cold June night; like the hatred that was piercing the hearts of men.

They said that he was man's best friend. He was nauseated. He did not want to be a best friend to the new man who is so intent on killing his own kind.

The dog howled again, unable to take the agony that was wrenching his heart. He set off into the night; back to wilderness, back to innocence.

Racism, they called it? It’s insane-ism.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Reinventing Your Exit

“Hello?” Aakriti answered the landline phone that had been ringing for almost a minute.

“Good evening, Mrs. Kapoor. Can I speak with Taj?” the voice at the other end said.

The sun had just set on a chilly December day. The sky had already turned pitch black and one could not fathom whether it was 5 pm or 9 pm.

“May I know who’s calling?” she questioned.

“It’s Akshay from the office.”

“Okay. But, he is not at home. He’s out of town for some official work. Surely you knew that?” Aakriti sounded suspicious.

“Oh? Oh, yes. Sorry. I had forgotten,” Akshay mumbled, “It was some urgent piece of work. In all this hurry, it totally slipped my mind. Sorry to have bothered you. Thank you. Good night.”

“Good night.” Aakriti ended the call.

She just stood there next to the coffee table, deep in thought, staring off into space. A cold draught of air from the open french window tousled her hair. She hugged herself tightly and shut the window securely.

“Hi. Could I talk to Mr. Kapoor?” Aakriti called at her husband’s office from a private number.

“Sorry, ma’am. He’s on leave.” Aakriti recognized it as the voice of his assistant, Megha.

“Out for some official work?” Aakriti enquired.

“No, ma’am. A leave means he’s not working. He’s at home or somewhere, but not at office. You are?” the irritated woman said.

Aakriti disconnected without bothering to reply.

The past week had been particularly difficult for them. Taj always seemed to be zoned out.

Aakriti was having problems conceiving, and both their families were immensely disappointed. She blamed nobody but her own self for her state. Taj loved kids. He wanted a chivalrous son, and a cute little daughter. All his dreams were dashed to earth when a week ago the doctors had declared that there was only one percent chance that she would be able to carry a baby at all. Her health would be in jeopardy. He loved her too much to endanger her life. Nevertheless, he was brooding.

She tried to call him. His phone was switched off. She felt uneasy and queasy as flung her phone carelessly onto the bed. It rang while she tried to induce vomiting in the bathroom sink. She turned on the faucet and let the water run in the empty basin purely to have some noise. The screeching silence was unbearable.

Picking up the phone from her bed, she found it was one of her best friends calling. Aakriti knew she meant well. However, she was in no mood for anyone’s consolation. All the past week had been nothing, but everyone’s efforts to keep her normal; countless suggestions, umpteen recommendations of better gynaecologists and whatnot had been coming in from everyone. She was fed up.

She let the phone drop lightly, and it bounced off and landed near the pillow. In Taj’s absence, she did not have to maintain a semblance of normalcy and hence, did not cook any dinner. They both had been eating only so that the other ate. Now she was free to sulk. She slid down to the floor, her back resting against the side of the huge bed, and cried. Again.

* * * * *

When Aakriti woke up the next day, it was nearly noon. The sun was shining without warming up anything. She had dozed off during the wee hours right on the cold floor. Her body was stiff and aching. She reached out for her phone from where she sat, retrieving it with difficulty. She pressed a button to unlock it, but nothing happened. She had no desire to get up and charge it, but had to do so in order to check if there were any calls or messages from her husband.

Since phone showed no signs of life, she figured she'd take a hot shower till it became conscious.

When she stepped out of the shower, reluctantly, twenty minutes later, her room was comparatively dark. She quickly glanced at the mahogany-framed window wondering if Taj had returned and drawn the curtains as he was wont to; the curtains were still open. Only the clouds had engulfed the sky, curtained the sun.

She sighed. She had never liked the sunlight. Now, however, its absence made everything look gloomier. Changing into a faded tee and a pair of loose jeans, Aakriti made her way to the kitchen to cook something for keeping herself occupied.

When the doorbell rang, Aakriti came back to earth. She had lost track of time, stirring the contents of a casserole as if hypnotized. The stew that she had been cooking had reduced a bit too much and resembled a gooey mass.

She turned off the stove and opened the door. It was Taj. She hugged him, tightly. Tears rolled down her eyes, automatically. He caressed her hair and kissed her forehead. Picking up the duffel bag, he entered their home and shut the door behind him.

“Have you been cooking?” he asked, sniffing.

“I had too much free time. And-” she let the sentence trail off.

“You haven’t eaten anything.” Taj stated as he poured himself a glass of water in the kitchen. He wasn’t asking.

“No, I did.” she replied hurriedly, feeling blood rushing to her cheeks. Lying was not her forte.

“There are no dirty dishes in the sink.” he said, sipping his water.

“We’ve a maid, remember? She washed them.” she said, turning his back toward him, trying to hide her flushed face, busying herself with the hopeless stew.

Taj gently hugged her from behind, removing her hands from the casserole and the ladle, kissing her hair.

“There are no freshly washed dishes, either, honey. I know you didn’t eat.And, if it helps you feel less guilty, I didn’t, either.”

“I am so sorry.” she broke down.

“Shh!” he whispered, turning her around and embracing her, “It’s not your fault.”

He knew she was apologizing not for missing her meals, but for not being able to give him babies.

“It is.” she sobbed, frantically.

He rubbed her back softly, and swayed her mildly, much like calming down a baby.

“It isn’t.” he said firmly leaving no room for further argument.

* * * * *

It was a rainy, dark and cold night a couple of days later. Aakriti was laying the table for dinner while Taj changed into his pajamas. Both were trying their best to get back to their normal lives, pinning their hopes on the treatment that Aakriti was undergoing.

Taj turned on the TV in the living room, switching promptly to the news channel.

“There was a match today?” Aakriti smiled.

“Yeah. Couldn’t catch it. Gonna make do with the highlights.” he smiled back, sitting at the dining table while Aakriti served him.

The news channel blared out a morbid story about a man who had woken up at an abandoned hospital in a semi-nude state. It seemed to be an update to a previous piece. The news anchor revealed that the man had been castrated without his consent, probably by some gore-loving psychopaths.

Taj choked on his food and coughed.

“Have water.” Aakriti said, getting up, rubbing his chest and his back.

The news anchor continued the story; the man himself was clueless why he had been targeted. A case had been registered, and the police had raided the hospital where this stranger had regained consciousness.

Aakriti stared at the TV screen as a photo of the protagonist of the horror tale was flashed.

“No! Don’t change the channel!” she squeaked the moment Taj had picked up the remote control.

Taj put down the controller and chewed his food quietly, not taking his eyes off his plate while Aakriti gaped in stunned silence.

“Taj,” she whispered, “That-”

“I know. It’s that asshole.” his voice venomous.

The victim was none other than Himanshu, Aakriti’s ex boyfriend. Himanshu had been involved with Aakriti for only three months, two years prior to her falling in love with and subsequently marrying Taj. They had been happily married for more than a year now.

The news piece recapitulated the story, stating all the events according to the timeline. All this had happened three days ago.

Taj switched off the TV, picked up his plate with congealed remains on it and lumbered into the kitchen. She heard him scrape off the remains into the dustbin and run water over the plate.

“Three days ago, Taj.” she had joined him in the kitchen.

“What happened?” he asked, opening the fridge, peeping inside, apparently looking for something. The yellow light from the reflected like a flame in his still eyes.

“Himanshu was fully neutered three days ago.”

“And?”

“Where were you then?”

“Are you suspecting me?” he shot her a maddened look, “I told you. I had gone out for some official work.”

“Akshay had called here. He didn’t know you were out which I found odd. So I called at your office. Your assistant said you were on leave.”

“She did?” he shrugged, closing the door of the fridge, “Absent-minded, useless girl. Remind me to sack her.”

“Look at me.” she whirled him around, looking into his eyes, “Where had you gone?”

“For an important and urgent work. Honestly.” he said, “But, it’s God’s righteousness, isn’t it?” he added, leaning against the refrigerator.

“Taj,” she began, looking timidly at his rigid face. He appeared eerily calm now.

“I mean,” he started, “It is kind of cool. You can’t have a baby, he can’t, either. God is fair. I like it.” he sounded abnormally normal and that frightened her.

Years ago, when Himanshu had broken up with Aakriti for a trivial reason, she had been heartbroken, depressed, almost crazy. Within days he was seeing a new girl and Aakriti knew she had been played with. The only silver lining was that they hadn’t been physically intimate. However, she had been much too emotionally attached. He had suddenly ousted her from his life. She could not cope up.

One night, she overdosed on the sleeping pills that had been prescribed in limited amounts by her psychiatrist. When the pills hadn’t seemed to be taking any effect, Aakriti had driven off in her car, unbeknownst to her family. Driving had always been therapeutic for her. Somewhere on the road, the drug had done its thing, and she crashed her car into a truck coming from the opposite direction.

Severely injured, half-dead, she had been brought into a hospital by a samaritan. Her family was called after her identity was established by the police. Miraculously, she had survived.

What they had been ignorant of, then, was that her injuries, though healed, had left her womb weak. It had been hurt, too.

Now, years later, that fateful night had come back to haunt her. One mistake had caused her immense loss. She wouldn’t be able to carry the baby, the doctors had told them. Her uterus that worked normally otherwise, would not be able to support the baby.

“Tell me you did not do this.” she cried, fearing her plight had driven him to such a horrible crime.

“I didn’t.” he said quickly, “Although he deserves much worse, some sort of justice has been served.” his eyes, burning with hatred, bored into hers.

Taj left the kitchen, dragging his feet to the bedroom. Aakriti closed her eyes, for once, unbelieving but wanting to believe he had no hand in the incident.

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.