(Untold Stories) Chapter Thirty Four : Changes Reversible, and Irreversible Changes

 

“Your house is beautiful,” Arnav remarked, folding his arms and resting them upon the railing. They stood next to each other on the terrace and were facing the garden down below. The smell of cigarette smoke still lingered in the air – a reminder of the conversation that had taken place just minutes ago between Ashish Gupta and Arnav. Khushi hadn’t asked him what they had been talking about when she had walked in.

“Thanks,” she replied, smiling a little, but still looking ahead. “It looked even better before, when the upkeep was better. The place doesn’t look as well maintained as it once was.”

“Is it?” he asked, “How was it when you were here?”

Her eyes swept across the view that stretched before them, before she raised a finger to point at the boundary walls. “Well, my favorite tree is missing, for one. There used to be this giant mango tree near the entrance gate, over there. I have spent a lot of time on it.”

“Underneath it, you mean.”

“No, on top of it. Between the branches. I have been very good at tree climbing.”

She turned to face Arnav and laughed at the look of disbelief on his face. “Hard to imagine me doing these things, isn’t it?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s just—” He thought of saying something but reconsidered and left it that.

The smile stayed on her face, but turned wistful. “It’s hard for me too, imagining myself doing all that I’ve done within the confines of these boundary walls. This place is making it very difficult for me to reconcile who I used to be once, with who I have become.”

He remembered what she had said to him the previous night. I wish you had seen me then.

“I’m sure you’re still the same,” he said. “It just doesn’t feel that way now, but it will.”

“And what if it never does…”

He shook his head. “Tough times in life don’t change who we are…they just force us to become who we need to be in order to face them.”

She turned to look at him.

“I was young when Mom Dad died, Anjali of course was younger,” he said, a faraway look touching his eyes. “I remember the night of their car crash. Don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

Khushi felt her heart rise up to her throat for a beat. He had never spoken about the tragedy in his own life before. The one time it had come up between them, he had been reticent about it and had changed the topic no sooner than it had sprung up. She didn’t let her surprise show on her face, however. Instead she offered to him what they always offered to one another – a quiet support.

“I thought I’d never live through it…”

Khushi knew what that felt like – the fear that you might not live through something. That every day would just get worse than the previous one, but never better.

“But you did…” she said softly.

He nodded slowly. “But I did…As did you.”

“It’s not comparable, Arnav. You lost your loved ones. I cannot begin to imagine the grief—”

“No grief is comparable. There’s no measure to call one less than another.”

She went quiet. The morning breeze swept across their faces gently, and the leaves rustled on the branches of the trees that surrounded them.

“Nani came and told me about the incident. I went and broke the news to Anjali. Nothing made sense for days after. There was so much work to do that I didn’t have the time to grieve. There was a time, weeks after the tragedy when I thought we could never be who we were before Mom and Dad. I looked at Nani, Anjali, and everyone had changed. I felt like we’d all have to relearn ourselves and one another. That the change in our lives would be irreversible.”

“Was it?”

“No, it wasn’t…not entirely, at least. Nani began to laugh again. Anjali found friends and learned to not miss Maa for every little thing. The business had suffered a huge blow, but it staggered and found balance again, and then got even better with time. The house started seeing festivals and birthday parties…all the changes that had seemed quite permanent then, eventually dissolved with time.”

“…And you?”

He looked at her, and she searched his eyes for the answer.

“I’ve always been this way,” he said, a wry smile touching his lips. “Don’t raise your hopes up for a version any better than this one to show face someday.”

Khushi felt her heart squeeze inside her chest. Beyond his words, she could hear what he was perhaps not admitting to his own self, even after all this time.

“But what I mean is, that life did become a lot like it used to be once again. Of course, some changes cannot be undone and some voids can never be filled. I’m sure you feel that way about your Buaji, who like you said, was like a parent to you. But you did join work, get back to living life, and doing it all quite remarkably. You don’t have to go looking for who you once were. She is you, already…you’ll see it soon.”

Khushi remained quiet for a few moments, then said, “You say circumstances force us to become who we need to be, but they also make those around us box us into compartments, Arnav. ‘She is always anxious’. ‘He is always quiet’. ‘She is always careful’. ‘He is aloof’….Over time, we start living in these boxes we’re put into and making them our own. The lines between what is real and what is not begin to blur. You just don’t simply see yourself clearly after that, you have to go looking.”

She swallowed thickly, looking at him with eyes that now reflected the fear she had felt since the moment she had opened her eyes that morning. “And what do people like that, who have lost sight of their own selves, do to others?….They make a mess of another’s life. In their own confused state of mind, they become selfish, and fail to see that they’re bringing nothing other than worry, hurt, and danger to those who care for them.”

The effect of her words was swift and visible. The muscles tensed on his face, and his eyes looked at her with a telling gaze, showing full well that he had understood where she was going with this.

“What can a person like that do for someone else? When they can barely make sense of their own lives? How can they ever reciprocate…when…”

“Khushi—”

“Why did you put yourself through all of it yesterday?” her voice turned agitated. “Why did you go out of your way in trying to protect me? You could have gotten seriously hurt, Arnav. What if something had happened to you? How would I have ever lived with myself if something happened to you because of me, did you ever once think of it?”

He stepped closer to her, wordlessly. His expression was firm, and when he placed his hand upon hers where it rested on the railing and she tried to pull back, he refused to let go.

She stared at his hand that held hers in place. When she spoke, her voice was uneven. “When you came to me last night, I didn’t say any of these things, I know. I was tired and spent, and you just…when you’re with me, I just…” She was struggling with words. “I have become selfish with you…and it’s not just about last night, when I just unburdened on you not caring how it would—….in recent times, you’ve just kept doing one thing after another for me, and I’ve just…let you. When I have no right to, when I know that I don’t—that I can’t—”

Words died on her lips, for she didn’t quite have the courage to acknowledge in clear terms what exactly it was that she knew she couldn’t do for him. She drew in a shaky breath, and looked at him instead, hoping that her silence could fill the blanks where words could not.

The weight of his gaze remained heavily upon her, steady and unwavering. When he spoke, there was a marked change in his voice.

“Yes, you’ve been very selfish,” he said. “And yes I didn’t bring it up last night either, or until now, but that doesn’t mean that I am not angry or upset with you.”

She lifted her eyes to meet his, and struggled to meet the unnerving intensity in his gaze.

“How could you come here alone without telling me?”

She blinked in confusion and surprise, taken aback by his words.

“When you knew the guy was going to be here, and it could be dangerous, then how could you simply leave without letting me know? A text message doesn’t count… don’t even get me started on that. Had I, or had I not requested you Khushi, to not do this?”

“What are you sa—”

“Imagine my worry when I got a call from Lavanya informing me that you’ve simply up and left. All the way here I just kept worrying about the hundred different scenarios where you could end up seriously hurt. So yes, it was selfish of you.”

Her wide eyes expressed her disbelief. “Did you even listen to what I said, Arnav? It’s the opposite of what you’re saying.”

He took both her hands in the firm possession of his own. “What is it,” he asked her, his voice calm and low, “that you think you’re saving me from? What do you think has happened to me?”

His straightforward question, made a flush of embarrassment touch her face. When she looked away, he tipped his head sideward, unrelenting in his stance.

“Tell me, I’m curious to know your diagnosis given all these SOS distress signals you’re shooting in the air on my behalf. I don’t think I’ve said anything myself to cause such panic…have I?”

 “I don’t— I didn’t mean to imply that you’re— that something has happened to you. I mean, I know you don’t— you’re not—”

If she would have just lifted her eyes and seen him, perhaps she would have caught the smile that touched and left his lips at her very chaotic, obviously flustered response. It disappeared fast enough though, and when she looked at him once again, he had all the serious sincerity back in place on his face.

She shook her head. “I just mean to say that you shouldn’t worry about me so much…or go out of your way to do things that you really don’t need to…I can’t do this to you.”

“Can’t do what?”

The fight left her in one audible breath. She looked at him with an expression that laid her emotions bare. “I don’t have it in me anymore to feel responsible for disappointing one more person who matters to me. If I hurt you, in any way, I won’t be able to live with myself. And I will hurt you…because right now I have only begun to feel like a dreadful, horrible chapter of my life has closed…finally…and I can’t even  begin to tell you how it feels. I can’t even begin to imagine ever wanting anymore than this feeling. I don’t think I’ll ever want more…or be able to give more…to anyone.”

It was quiet for some long moments, as those words and their implication settled in the air between them.

At long last, Khushi felt his hands leave hers, his fingers slowly slipping away. Her heart ached in protest, furious with her. A sinking feeling began to settle, that perhaps in that moment, she had lost him. The sense of loss was staggering in its intensity. But she had to, she told herself. It was inevitable. She couldn’t start her life afresh on the foundation of false and misleading hopes. And if it meant—

She hadn’t finished the thought when the fingers that had left her hands, came to rest against the sides of her face. Upon his touch, her startled eyes flew to his face. His expression was of calm resolve and undeterred, a reminder that he wasn’t about to allow the distance they had covered, to unfold between them once again.

If Khushi wished to protest against the proximity and move back, her traitorous heart did not follow heed of her wishes. She searched inside desperately for the guilt she was convinced she should feel, the embarrassment that surely should set in any moment now, and the regret that should make her withdraw. Instead, she felt nothing but a soothing of nerves when the familiar cedar scent of him surrounded her once again. And when his finger lightly brushed against her cheek, she felt no difference in the effect that it had had on her frayed self the night before and now, in the present moment. Aghast, she realized that she felt no more inclined to step back, than she did to step forward, right into his embrace like the night before.

“Got it,” he said softly, his voice hoarse. “Understood. I’ll keep that in mind.”

She looked at him wordlessly, his voice drowning in the sound of her own heartbeats.

“I want nothing from you, other than what I already have. I do not expect anything more. I have not done anything for you that you wouldn’t have done for me, and I’m not doing anything so I can have something from you in return. If I did, I would not lie. Do you trust me?”  

He waited, before repeating the question. “Do you trust me, Khushi?”

“Yes,” she finally replied. “I do.”

 

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